


Lecherous Nocturne Excursions - Captivity

by R_rated26



Series: Lecherous Nocturne Excursions Collection [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal, Anal Sex, Attempted Escape, Belts, Biting, Blood As Lube, Bondage, Captivity, Chains, Collar with nametag, Collars, Come Marking, Come Shot, Come Swallowing, Come as Lube, Comeplay, Corporal Punishment, Demon Dean, Escape, F/M, Force Choking, Forced Pregnancy, Handcuffs, Humiliation, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Mental Breakdown, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Cuddling, Non-Consensual Groping, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Non-Consensual Touching, POV Dean Winchester, POV Female Character, POV Male Character, Porn With Plot, Pregnancy, Punishment, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Scratching, Sexslave, Situational Humiliation, Slapping, Slut Shaming, Smut, Somnophilia, Spanking, Spit As Lube, Spit Kink, Suicide Attempt, Unplanned Pregnancy, Verbal Abuse, Verbal Humiliation, assrape, dog collar, non-con, shock collar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-11 03:35:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 27
Words: 128,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8952313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/R_rated26/pseuds/R_rated26
Summary: Demon Dean is having too much fun with his new favorite plaything; the pretty brunette. He had planned on using her till she was worn out and then discard of her, but a defiant act from her, made him change his mind and make her life a living hell for as long as he possibly can.After some time it’s clear that she’s pregnant.Will she escape her rapist and captor or will she die trying?
This is a request from one of my readers. It’s a spinoff from the original Lecherous Nocturne Excursions.The first 4 chapters are the same in this story as in the original work, so they won’t be posted here. (you can read the original story and the 4 ‘intro’ chapters to this story HereThis story deviates from the original about halfway through the first chapter (of this work. In the original it's chapter 5) – so be patient.





	1. Chapter 1

He woke up well rested and with the most exhilarating feeling he has had in a long time. The reason was the brunette next to him. Looking to his side, he saw she was still passed out from the roofies or maybe just asleep. He turned on the bedside lamp and got up. 

After getting dressed, he rummaged around in his closet until he found what he was looking for. He kneeled beside the bed, a stray lock of hair covered the pretty brunette’s face, so he put it behind her ear. His fingers traced over her left cheek and then gave her a light slap. 

She didn’t wake, she was still out. That was just what he had hoped. He released her hands from the cuffs, he took a moment to study the reddish and bluish lines around her wrists before he took the clothes he had found in the closet. The set consisted of a pair of lace panties – his favorite – and a simple, strapless dress in a blood red fabric. 

Even though she was unconscious, he got her dressed with ease. He removed the camera pointing at the bed before placing the chair in the far corner to the right from the door, he had a perfect view of the bed and door. He put the ankle of his right leg on his left knee, rested his right elbow on the armrest. His thumb under his chin while his index finger patiently traced back and forth on his lower lip. The left just rested at the armrest. He let the blackout curtains stay down and the only source of light was the small and dull bedside lap he had turned on when he woke. Sitting here in the corner, the light wouldn’t reveal him for the brunette before it was too late. 

He was curious to see what she would do when she woke. And when she did, he would get the pleasure of capturing her and rip her clothes off all over again. A shudder ran through him, he could hardly wait. Impatiently he looked at the clock after some time, it couldn’t be long now as he calculated how many hours she had been out. 

Not long after, she began moving and making small sounds that indicated she was waking up. Moments after, she lifted her head and looked confused around, her brown eyes darted past him without seeing him. She looked down at herself and frowned because of the clothes, then her frown deepened as she looked at her hands, and then her eyes lit up.

A smirk spread on his lips as he watched her become aware of her ‘freedom.’

Sitting up at the edge of the bed, the fingers of her right hand rubbed her temple like she was having a headache – and she probably had. Then she got on her feet and half-stumbled, half-ran to the door. He watched as she pointlessly tugged in the handle of the locked door. Her efforts increased for every second. 

Soundlessly, he stood up and strolled up behind her without her hearing him. By her shoulder, he ripped her around so violently her back banged against the door and she let out a terror-filled scream. Before she could get over her shock, he grabbed her jaw in a vise-like grip. “Can I get a good morning kiss?” He asked sweetly as he pressed harder on her jaw to make her lips pout. Slowly, he neared her lips. She had stood dumbstruck with fear up until now, but all of a sudden, she wildly fought back. He had to place his forearm against her chest to keep her up against the door, while she screamed, tugged, and scratched his hand holding onto her jaw. 

A hope of escaping had filled her when she saw her hands were free, and it had filled her with a renewed fighting spirit and defiance. Her body was sore and hurting, especially her behind, but she mustered all her strength to fight him off. She wasn’t giving up her temporary freedom. 

Dean looked most of all like he was bored, but a little amused glint could be seen in his eyes. When he’d had enough of her little scene, he almost too easy, got past her floundering arms and assaulted her lips fiercely. 

She screamed her protests out under his lips, but it just gave his tongue access to intrude her mouth. He moaned into the kiss as he kissed her passionately. His teeth nipped in her lower lip before his tongue forced its way into her mouth again. 

Her fists now banging against his chest and shoulders. He pressed his body crudely against hers. His arm that had laid across her chest now moved down and grabbed her waist. This close she had a harder time hitting him. Not that it hurt him, it was just annoying, and he wanted to break her by slowly eradicating every choice, every hope, every effort of hers. Undermine her free will completely. As long as she was here, she belonged to him. She wasn’t a person here. Here she was just a toy, a leisure activity, a hobby. Nothing more. 

She wriggled, twisted, and turned to escape him, but his body kept hers pinned to the door. His grip on her jaw kept her lips sealed to his. With her tongue, she tried to push his out of her mouth, but her pathetic attempt just turned him on. He started rubbing against her, moaning into the kiss as the pressure in his boxers relieved a bit. 

The more violent he bucked his hips and rubbed against her, the louder her protesting screams seeped out from the unwilling kiss. Her hands had now started to tug pointlessly in his black t-shirt. Though he barely noticed it. He indulged fully and completely in the kiss. The more she fought, the better it was for him. 

Finally, his lips let hers go, but he didn’t move away. His lips kept hovering under an inch from hers. “Your little cunt like that, huh? Me rubbing against you like this? You like that, huh?” He mocked in a seductive purring as he rubbed more vehemently against her. A shudder of disgust coursed through her as she felt his warm breath on her lips as he spoke. 

His hand that had laid on her waist, wandered down under her dress where he pinched her butt cheek just at the hem of the lace panties before his long fingers slipped under the lace, nearing her nether orifice. “How's your ass doing, baby? Is it sore?” He taunted menacingly as he pulled back a few inches to look her in the eyes. Those pretty brown eyes that still had a spark of defiance in them. 

Her upper lip was raised in disgust. Then she did something he hadn’t foreseen. She spat in his face. 

His jaw clenched noticeably, his hand tightening on her jaw causing her to whimper quietly, but less than a second later, he had regained his composure. He removed his hand from her ass and removed the spit from his face, only to wipe it on her cheek, down and over her lips. Now a smirk dawned on his face. After letting his fingers trace unnecessarily long over her lips, it sneaked to her neck and he flung her to the floor with a grunt. Before she could do anything, he grabbed her hair and growled, “Get on your knees.” The order was needless as he, at the next second, dragged her up by her hair while she kicked and screamed, her hands tried to remove his with futility. 

When he had placed her on her knees, he kneeled down in front of her, still with a steely grip on her hair. A tear traced down her cheek as he grabbed her jaw like before with his free hand. “I've been in your cunt, but I've been in your tight little ass…” He close to snarled, then he turned her head to the side and let his tongue lick the tear off her cheek and then whispered mockingly in her ear, “Repeatedly.”

He turned her head back to face him. “Now I think it's time I try out that pretty little mouth of yours.” He said as his thumb stroked her lower lip. His tongue licked his own lower lip as he looked hungrily at her lips. “And if you just as much as think of biting me again, I'm gonna fucking keep you here and rape your ass every day until it's bleeding so much you bleed out and die. And after that, I'm gonna continue to rape your ass until your body is so disgusting and disintegrated that you'll fall to pieces and first then, I'm gonna throw your body out in the trash.” His tone got more and more condescending as he spoke his threat. 

“So are you gonna bite me and seal your fate or are you gonna be a good little girl that deserves some breakfast?” He asked in an almost cheery tone, which seemed absurd after his baleful speech. When she didn’t answer immediately, he let go of her jaw and slapped her. 

She whimpered as the slap was much more vibrant because he was still holding on to her hair, prohibiting her head from getting jerked to the side by the force. It took all her willpower to send him a defiant glare. But he saw the terror and panic slowly unfolding deepest in her eyes. With a lopsided smile, he slapped her again. 

“Answer me.” He demanded in a stern but calm voice. A second later, he slapped her again, harder this time. The only thing coming from her was a whine of pain. 

“Answer me!” He raised his voice markedly and instantly after slapped her again. “Answer me, you fucking little cunt!” He now yelled in her face and slapped her before he promptly backhanded her. 

Instead of a scream of pain, a sob escaped her and she finally cried, “Good!”

“So you're gonna be a good girl?” He asked quietly while stroking her red cheek. A bluish shadow slowly surfaced too. 

“Yes.” She whispered tearfully. 

“Atta girl.” He praised patronizingly as he patted her hurting cheek. She sniffed as he got to his feet, still with a hold on her hair. With his free hand, he opened his jeans and pulled them and his boxers down. “Now, be a good girl and open up.” He prompted, but in contrast, his free hand gave her red cheek a demeaning pat. 

Tears started to streak down her cheeks, she tried to hold back the sobs as she shook her head as much as his grip on her allowed. 

Dean sighed deeply. “Fine, you fucking slut, then I’m giving you a choice. Ass or mouth? You have three seconds to answer before I wreck your ass. One…” 

Now she couldn’t hold back the sobs. “Please…” She begged almost unintelligibly. 

“Two!” Dean thundered to outshout her. He hesitated to make the final count to give her one last chance to be smart. Besides, he really liked the idea of having been in all of her holes. 

“Mouth…” She finally whispered defeated just as Dean had opened his mouth to speak. 

“Good. I’ll be gentle,” He soothed, his free hand pressed on her cheeks to make her open up. Slightly unwillingly she opened her mouth. The tip of him slid into her mouth and her lips closed around him. He let out a moan. “At first, at least.” He smiled fiendishly, but she couldn’t see it, her eyes were squeezed shut as she tried to endure this. 

He started moving back and forth in her mouth, slowly and gently, just as he had promised. But she cringed every time he went in and she had to fight back an urge to throw up at the thought of who it was she had inside her mouth, and what he had done to her; where he had been…  
“Mmm, your mouth feels so good. Use your tongue some more, baby.” He demeaned.

That was the drop for her. This had to stop. Her teeth clamped together on him, causing Dean to grunt in pain. 

“You fucking bitch!” He yelled and retaliated with a fist to her cheek which made her let go instantly as the pain radiated through her skull. 

By her hair, he dragged her up into a standing position. He ripped out several hairs in the process. With black eyes, he yelled in her face, “Now I’m gonna fucking keep you here until you rot! Do you get that? You’re never getting outta here alive and I plan on keeping you alive for a very long time! Your ass is too good to waste!”

His violent outburst filled her with more fear than ever and she whimpered loudly. Out of rage, he knocked her head down into the bedside table and she fell to the floor as he let go of her hair. She didn’t move. 

He sighed exasperated before kneeling down to check her pulse. She was still alive, she was just knocked out. “Fucking skank. See what you made me do.” He growled lowly. 

For a second or two, he fought to recompose himself, but he just couldn’t. He was so furious. But so horny, he had to fuck her. 

He grabbed her hair and threw her halfway up on the bed. Now her upper body was on the mattress, her knees on the floor. Before pulling her panties down, he grabbed her hair and ripped her head back. “You are the stupidest toy I’ve ever had. If I didn’t know better, I would say that this was simply an excuse to make me keep you here, so you didn’t have to beg me to.” He whispered in her ear without caring that she couldn’t hear him. 

After he had pulled the dress up and the panties down, he looked indecisively at her ass, then her pussy. He might be too upset. So upset, he was afraid he’d ruin her ass if he raped that now. And that couldn’t happen. He had to keep her here now. He had given her a choice and she sealed her fate. She was going to be sorry for what she had done. But if he ruined her ass now there was no point in keeping her. That would just be boring. But he needed to get his frustration out. Right now. There was still spit on his dick, so without further ado, he shoved his length into her folds with a grunt and started thrusting as hard and merciless as he could, much alike the first time when she still thought he was only going to rape her pussy. 

He was sure he would have come in a matter of minutes, but while panting with fury and exertion, pushing out his animalistic grunts through his teeth that were clenched so hard it hurt, it soon became clear that he wasn’t going to. Which just made him even more furious. 

He paused for a second to wipe his forehead of sweat. He realized he had done this for so long, he couldn’t make ‘normal’ sex work. By that realization he hoped he would never be human again, then his sex life would be hell. And he had been there, so he knew what he was talking about. 

“This is all your fault.” He hissed as he slapped her ass as hard as he could, immediately leaving a red handprint. He started moving in and out of her again. His right hand gave her ass another spank before his arm wrapped around her throat like he would have done if she had been conscious. 

“I’m missing your screams and tears.” He snarled into her ear. But knowing she couldn’t hear him pissed him off and his teeth sank into her neck as he upped his tempo markedly into her. Her skin muffled his outburst of fury and passion, though the last thing was lacking behind with her unresponsive body. 

As his teeth released her skin, leaving a deep, red and soon purple bite mark, he felt how it helped just a little on his burning arousal. She might not feel the pain now, but she would when she woke. He smiled before he bit down on her shoulder and continued over her shoulder blade. The more he bit her, the more he liked the thought of having marked her. 

Too soon, the effects of biting her wore off and he was left horny, frustrated, and angry. He hadn’t imagined it would be so hard to come in her cunt. He thought of stopping, but he was so close to his climax, he couldn’t stop, but yet so far away. 

“Oh, screw it!” He growled as he pulled out of her folds and pushed deep into her ass. A raw, guttural moan from the back of his throat spilled from his lips as he felt the tightness around his member that he longed for. 

As he was thrusting into her ass, the frustration in his moans and grunts decreased a bit. “Your ass is so good.” He moaned as the satisfaction spread in him as her tightness consumed him. Yet, his climax seemed to be just as far away. 

“I want to ruin your ass, but then I can’t have any more fun with you.” He hissed to her and gave her an even harder thrust as her reaction and response continued to be absent. 

“Are you getting wet or is your ass just bleeding?” He mocked menacingly. “I better check.” He straightened his upper body, slowed his rhythm into her to watch his member go in and out of her. Surely, she was bleeding. The reddish, thick fluid covered him and gathered at her opening. For a few slow thrusts, he watched, enjoyed the sight. But he was still too far away from his climax to finish in her ass. He couldn’t without wrecking it. 

He let out a string of expletives as he pulled out and shoved himself back into her pussy. But the short ride in her ass was now ‘revenging’ itself. It was like he had been desensitized. Her cunt felt even looser now than before. 

With sweat running down his temples, his t-shirt sticking to his skin, and panting so much his throat was dry and his chest hurt, he resorted to something he knew helped. Or it helped when he raped her ass. 

He leaned forward over her, his arm back around her throat, his lips at her ear, ready to humiliate her even though she wasn’t listening. But he had to. 

“God, your cunt is loose compared to your ass.” He snarled out between his clenched teeth, mixing with his panting outbursts. “You’re worthless. The only thing about you that’s worth anything is your ass. It’s a good fuck. I can’t even imagine a single man that would fuck your cunt voluntarily. A fake pussy is better than yours.” 

Humiliating her slowly brought him closer, but he was going insane by the prolonging of it. His left hand reached out and could just get a grip of the edge of the black box at the bedside table, and he pulled it to the floor. The items in it spread on the floor, but now he could reach them. He grabbed the smaller dildo, it was a tad smaller than his own dick. Without batting an eye, he shoved it up her ass. 

He instantly felt how her pussy got just a bit tighter with the pressure of the dildo from her ass. He closed his eyes and let out a deep moan. The thought that something was in her ass now, spurred him closer to his long-awaited climax. 

“At least your pussy got a little tighter by that.” He taunted as he leaned over her again with his arm around her throat. “But it’s still not worth raping. Every second I spend in your cunt is a waste of my time, you dirty slut. Yeah, you’re a little slut. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have gotten you home as easily as I did. Wonder how many dicks that’s been in your cunt and that pretty little mouth of yours. I bet it’s a lot. But that ass…” Slowly he neared his climax. He was now thrusting into her in a furious and violent pace. She was sure going to feel that too when she woke. “… That ass, baby. I don’t think anybody’s been in there. And even if they had, I bet you whined out and said it hurt and then they would go back to your pussy, but I bet they were disappointed. They just weren’t as ruthless and savage as me. And they don’t have what it takes to claim what they want.” He paused to try to catch his labored breath for a second. He was inching closer and closer to his sweet release. 

“But I bet I’m the only one that has had the pleasure of coming in your ass. Mmm, it makes me all tingly just to think about it. And now that I’m keeping you here, I’ll have the pleasure of doing it again, and again, and again.” He let out a rawer grunt, interrupting his demeaning, as he inched even closer. 

“After I come in your loose and worthless cunt, I have to come in your mouth someday too. Then I can say I’ve finished in all your holes. You belong to me now! You’re my little personal rape-doll!” 

Finally, his load spilled into her, but he only had to give her one hard thrust and a small push to empty himself completely. His orgasm had filled him shortly and disappointingly flatly. If his other orgasms in her ass had been at the boiling point, this was just a simmer. He could feel he hadn’t even spilled half as much sperm now as he had in her ass. “Well, that was disappointing.” He muttered before he got up and closed his jeans. The unfulfillment and disappointment over his dreary orgasm made the fury rise in him again. 

His gaze laid on the brunette lying unconscious and used halfway on his bed. With a kick to her ribs, her body tumbled lifelessly to the floor. Kneeling down beside her, he grabbed her jaw. “This is all your fault!” He barked at her. “Thanks for the lousy fuck, it wasn’t even worth my time. Now you’re gonna lie here until I feel like looking at you again.” His tone had morphed to a low, angry snarl. 

Without an effort, he grabbed her and threw her on the bed. He cuffed her hands to the headboard and tightened the handcuffs so much they dug into her skin. Quickly, he put everything back in the black box. Before putting the lid back on, he noticed something missing. The dildo in her ass. For a moment, he considered leaving it in but then thought about her ass in the long run. He better take it out, so it didn’t harm her ass unnecessarily. 

After taking the dildo out, he hissed in her face, “I’ll keep you here until you rot.” Then his eyes noticed the bump on her forehead. There was a wound as well, probably from the sharp edge of the bedside table. With some spit, he removed the solidified rust red blood from her forehead. She didn’t need stitches, but she would probably get a small scar. “Good your face isn’t as pretty as your ass. Otherwise, it would have been a waste.” He derided, then locked the door behind him and called Crowley to hear if he had any work for him. The brunette, he couldn’t even remember her name, had earned herself a timeout and he could as well use the time productively. 

 

She woke with a pounding headache. Her sense of time was completely eradicated. How long had it been? What had happened? She tried to open her eyes to orient herself when she realized they were already open. The room was simply pitch black. She couldn’t see a thing. 

After a few moments, she had ruled out that it wasn’t just because her eyes had to get used to the darkness, it really was pitch black. She listened after any signs of other persons in the room. Holding her breath, she listened closely, but she couldn’t hear anything else than her own heart thumping loudly in her chest. 

A sharp pain shot through her when she tried to move that at first, it felt like her whole body was hurting, but slowly she could localize the pain. Her wrists hurt, the steel dug deep into her skin. Her head hurt, but it was centered at her forehead and her left cheek. The left side of her neck and shoulder along with the left side of her upper back hurt in an odd way and she could feel it every time she moved. It hurt between her legs and she was wet too. 

Fragments flooded her mind. That monster had forced her to suck his dick. Tears filled her eyes. She had bitten him. Then she remembered that he was angry, but it was fuzzy. He was angry, and then a pain in her head, and then nothing. But it hurt more between her legs than when she woke up this morning. 

Had he..?

She ground her thighs together to get a clearer picture of why she was wet between her legs. It was sticky. The panties she had worn when she woke was down at her knees. Oh god. He must have raped her while she was unconscious. Had he no restraint? Was there a limit to how far he would go?

Another memory dawned on her. He was a demon. A real life demon like they were preaching about in church. She believed in God, but demons walking the face of the earth? She hadn’t thought that in one of a million. But now she was here. Captured by a demon that raped her over and over again. 

A sob escaped her as the tears brimmed over in her eyes, but it just made her body hurt even more. She bit her lip to stifle it, but the sobs shook through her body anyway, only silent now. 

 

Her sense of time was gone. She was in this dark room, alone. Her crying had stopped some time ago. Her tear ducts seemed empty and she tried to make that emptiness take over her body as well. It was better than the despair, misery, and hopelessness that had enveloped her. And the fear… the fear of him. Of what he might do. Of ever escaping this hell. And even if she did escape, how could she go back to a normal life when something like this had happened to her?

The sound of a door slamming made her jolt and she immediately whimpered in pain. 

Footsteps… her breathing accelerated along with her heart as she heard the heavy boots on the carpet. The lock clicked, she was nearly hyperventilating now. 

The door opened and the light that entered the room made her eyes squint. A few moments later, she could open them more and saw a silhouette leaning against the doorframe.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's decided to keep his brunette plaything, watch how he taunts and torments her in her captivity.

The ceiling lamp turned on, and she had to squint again. When she was able to see again, she saw Dean – if that was really his name – leaned against the doorframe. He looked arrogant with an annoyed hint. “Are you done trying to bite me?” His icy voice nearly cut through her. 

She didn’t know what to answer, so she simply didn’t. Slowly, he strolled towards her. His cold green eyes nearly glared at her. She couldn’t help her eyes from following him as he stalked around the bed. She wanted to cringe and hide from him but she couldn’t. 

As he got back to the side of the bed where she was lying, he kneeled down. When his hand reached out for her face, she turned it away, which only made him grab her jaw and rip her face back. Then his fingers lightly caressed her left cheek that was mostly red but had splatters of bluish-purple too. His fingers moved to her forehead and she flinched when he examined the bump. 

“You reek like a fucking whorehouse. You’re disgusting.” Revulsion saturated his, otherwise, icy voice. He ended his derision by patting her hurting cheek patronizingly before he stood up. 

Shuddering, she curled herself up, waiting for his assault when his footsteps receded. As she looked up, he turned off the light and closed the door. Leaving her in complete darkness again. She nearly flinched when the lock clicked, to her ears, it was brutal. 

 

Being in the darkness seemed to obscure her sense of time. She heard a lot of ruckus through the wall, but couldn’t find out what was going on. There were drilling, hammering, metal clanking… 

She wondered what he was doing. Hoping it would take long. The longer it took, the longer she was left in peace. If this was her world now, she preferred the darkness. 

 

Unable to tell how much time had passed by, Dean came back. This time he turned the light on immediately and walked straight to her bedside. Promptly, she curled up to protect herself and let out a small scream when his hands reached out. He deftly unhooked the clasp fastening her to the bed. “Come on, you dirty piece of trash.” He grumbled as he dragged her halfway up into a standing position. 

By instinct, she dug in her heels and let out a protesting, but frightened scream. “Stop! Stop! Please, stop!” She cried. 

He stopped dragging away with her and turned to face her. “As I said earlier, you reek like a fucking whorehouse. It’s disgusting and you make me wanna puke, so I’m taking you to get a shower, so I can wash off that stink of sweat, sex, sperm, and shit.” He snarled at her before he dragged her, by the handcuffs, out of the bedroom. 

To her left was the small entrance. A round dining table was to her right, it was covered with a lot of tools and stuff, behind it was an open kitchen. Straight forward was a couch, facing a TV at the end of the room. 

Every window was covered by blackout curtains. A clock on the wall told her it was 2:16, but it didn’t reveal if it was a.m. or p.m. And by her sense of time, it could be both. 

He dragged her around the table and past the kitchen. Between the couch and the TV was a door to the right. The bathroom. 

After dragging her inside, he locked the door behind him. The bathroom was medium sized with a shower and a small cabinet, all in white and black colors. 

He pushed her into the shower. On the ceiling was a small rail with a snap hook. It looked like it was new. 

“Just for you, baby.” He said tonelessly as he lifted her arms and fastened the handcuffs to the snap hook. 

So that was what he had been doing. Her mood dropped lower than before as the pain ran through her in this position. She whimpered quietly. 

“What was that?” He snapped and grabbed her jaw in one hand. His green eyes were as cold as ever. A low whimper escaped her, but she didn’t say other than that. 

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.” He simply said before letting her jaw go. He easily pulled the red dress off of her as it was strapless. He only asked her to lift her legs one by one to remove it and the panties completely from her. 

She tried solemnly to focus on the fact that it would at least be nice to get a shower. To wash him off of her. He was right, the stench of sex hung around her and she just wanted it gone. 

He turned on the water. The cascades of cold water hit her and made her shriek. Involuntarily she tugged in the cuffs, but it only hurt her more. Then the water became warmer and she relaxed a bit. 

Dean quickly threw off his clothes and stepped into the water as well. She eyed him suspiciously, she hadn’t expected it, to be honest. 

Unhurriedly he washed himself, washed his hair, and shaved like she wasn’t there and she did everything she could to look everywhere else than at him. 

“Now, what about you give me a kiss and I’ll be so kind to wash your body and your hair?” He offered, his tone wasn’t as hard and ice-cold as earlier. He stepped closer to her, laid his arm around her waist and pressed her body against his. A little sound of disgust escaped her lips. 

“Come on, pout those pretty lips for me.” He encouraged. His tone was arrogant, but it somehow became softer as well. 

When she didn’t do as he said, in fact, she had turned her head away and looked straight at the wall, he sighed annoyed. “Newsflash, baby. When I ask you to give me a kiss, it’s not actually a question.” His tone had a cutting edge now. Unwillingly her eyes darted to his, and then back to the wall. 

He sighed again, then cracked his neck, and said sternly, “Fine.” A second later, his hand grabbed her jaw and forced her to face him. Tightening his grip on her, her lips pouted, and he sealed his lips to hers. His arm that had laid like a snare around her waist, moved down and pinched her ass. It made her rise to her toes when he did it again, harder this time. 

Suddenly, he tore his lips from hers, the cold hardness in his features were replaced with a sly smirk. “Good girl.” He patted her cheek in a condescending manner before he untangled himself from her body with one last pinch of her ass. He found the shampoo, asked her to tilt her head back, and started washing her long brown hair. 

“Look at me.” He demanded as his shampoo-covered fingers entered her hair and started to massage it. She kept looking to the side. “Listen to me, fighting me only makes it so much worse for yourself. If you’re a good girl and do as I say, I might even treat you with something nice now and then now that I’m keeping you.” 

His words seeped into her as poison. But she couldn’t accept that this was her life now. She couldn’t just let him get away with this. She had to stand up to him, she couldn’t just submit to his schemes. “I’m not a pet to be kept.” She snarled before she could stop herself. 

A patronizing chuckle built in Dean’s throat, he actually looked amused this time. Then he grabbed her hair at the back of her neck and ripped it back. The smile and laughter were gone. The cold and menacing expression back on his face. “Sweetheart, you just earned yourself an ass-raping.” After he spoke the edges of his lips curled upwards in a cruel smile. 

She gulped loudly when her eyes involuntarily darted to his. Expecting some sort of attack, her body became stiff. But all he did was just to release his tight grip on her hair and continued to run his fingers through it to distribute the shampoo. A second later, he even started humming softly. She couldn’t recognize the tune. 

His fingers continued down her long brown hair down her back. As he finished up with the tips, he grabbed her waist and dragged her forward. The rail on the ceiling made it easy for him to move her into the cascades of water to wash the shampoo out. She closed her eyes as the water ran down over her and she gasped when he grabbed her waist once again to push her back out of her water. 

When she opened her eyes, he was pouring soap into his hands, rubbed them together, and laid them on her neck where he began to rub her in soft circles, making the soap foam on her body. Again, she looked to the side at the wall. As he reached her breasts, he spent unnecessary long time there circling them, squeezing them, and ended with pinching her nipples, which made her flinch. 

He moved down over her stomach and down between her legs. His watchful gaze laid on her as he rubbed her sweet spot. She couldn’t help but press her lips dissatisfied together. His fingers slid over her folds and suddenly moved up around her waist and started washing her back. She exhaled, unaware that she had held her breath.

Then his hands moved down over her ass. Spending even more time here than he had done with her breasts. Slowly he moved closer until his naked, wet body was pressed against hers. She could feel his breath on her cheek as he watched her, her gaze was still fixated on the wall.

His fingers found the burn marks from his cigarette and pinched her. She inhaled sharply, but the burn marks weren’t what hurt the most. Now his fingers rubbed between her butt cheeks. Up and down in a teasing manner, and by his smile it was obvious he was playing with her. 

His index finger repeatedly circled her nether orifice. “Is it still sore?” He whispered in her ear. Then he started chuckling. “Of course, it is.” He answered his own question, though the answer and her discomfort was painted on her face. 

He untangled himself from her body and stepped out of the shower. She sighed in relief, but it was too soon. A moment later, he returned with a small bottle in his hand. She hadn’t noticed the key before he placed the bottle on the small bottle holder in the corner of the shower. 

He reached up to her cuffed hands. She thought he would release her, but he only loosened them, so the metal didn’t dig painfully into her skin anymore. 

“We can’t have that pain overshadowing the other.” He cryptically noted as the put the key on the bottle holder and took the small bottle he had brought with him. 

By her shoulder, he pushed her to the side, so her front was against the wall. She whimpered as the steel tightened around her wrists as the snap hook and chain wasn’t long enough now that she was pressed against the wall. 

Dean pressed his body against her back, pinning her to the wall. When she heard the bottle get opened, she fought to push him away. 

“Are you ready for that ass-raping, sweetheart?” He asked close to her ear, her fighting was pointless. His teeth captured her earlobe after he spoke. She shuddered and pulled her head as far to the side as possible. 

“Don’t do it! Please!” She begged, but she couldn’t hide that defiant anger she felt. 

“You brought this on yourself, baby. So don’t come crying to me when you don’t do as you’re told.” He smirked. That she defied him was sometimes fun, that meant he got to punish her. But everything gets boring eventually. “Or actually, a little crying is okay. It lets me know how much it hurts.” He chuckled cruelly as his Vaseline covered finger laid on her second hole. She immediately tensed up, feeling the sticky consistency, but unable to tell what it was. 

He massaged her hole a couple of moments before his finger pushed into her. A pained sound escaped her clenched teeth. 

“I’m just gonna warm your ass up a little bit. Now that I’m keeping you, I have to take care of your ass to make sure it lasts. If I wreck your ass you’re not worth anything to me.” His finger slowly pumped in and out of her before he added another. A whine came from her as his two fingers moved inside her, curled up, and spread. “You like having my fingers up your ass?” He mocked and then let his tongue lick her ear with a wicked smile. 

“You should actually appreciate that I’m so nice to you. It’s not everybody’s ass I bother to warm up.” His tone got markedly harder. “But not too much, though. That’s no fun.” He made it sound like a threat as he pulled his fingers out of her. 

He took some more Vaseline and covered his hard and ready dick with it. If she should last for months, he really had to take care of her behind. Guiding his member to her opening, he slowly eased the tip of him into her. “Feels like you regained some of your tightness, baby.” He taunted. 

“No! Stop!” She screamed and pressed herself against the wall to escape him as the pain spread. 

“I’m not gonna stop. You belong to me now.” He said ominously as he pressed his whole length deep into her, letting out a deep, satisfied sigh when he was deepest inside. For a couple of seconds, he held still inside her, really enjoying the tightness around him. Having to resist the urge to go fast and brutal on her, he slowly pulled out and pushed in again, continuing in a slow but steady pace. 

His hands that had laid on her waist, wrapped around her body. His right around her throat without putting pressure on and the other across her upper body, almost absentmindedly playing with her breasts. “Now that I own you, maybe I should get you a collar. With a tag with my name, of course. What’s your favorite color? You know what? Never mind. My favorite color is black, so that’s what it’s gonna be.” After his condescending words, she threw her head back, intending to hit his face, but he was faster. 

“Oh, wow, what was that?” Now he applied pressure on her throat with his arm. He leaned closer and pressed his cheek against hers. “Are you being a bad girl?” He shoved his length hard into her, breaking his old rhythm and she cried out. Here in the shower, it was impossible to tell if she was crying or not. “Are you?” He asked and gave her another hard thrust that made her scream in pain. 

His arm that had laid across her upper body moved up, now his fingers traced over her lips. “I better teach you some manners now that you’re staying.” He made it sound like a threat as he let his tongue lick from her jaw to her temple. Since the last hard thrust, he had held still inside her. “Now where do I start?” He pondered. “I’m gonna start by turning you around.” He declared after a moment of thought. Pulling out of her, he ripped her around before she could do anything. Her back bumped against the tiles and it gave a thud when the back of her head hit as well as his hand closed around her throat and forced her head back. 

“Shh. Don’t fight me.” He hushed as his free hand grabbed behind her right knee and lifted her leg up and around his waist. Quickly, he guided the tip of him into her. “You know how this angle feels.” He winked at the end of the threat with a cruel smile. 

She knew exactly what he meant and that he would use the angle to his advantage to try and ‘teach her some manners.’ She would have protested, but his hand around her throat didn’t allow her. 

“The first one you’ve heard before, but it doesn’t hurt to be clear. Or it might hurt you, actually.” Now he forced his member inside her. Her lips parted in what would have been a scream if it weren’t for his hand cutting off her airways. She tried to get away, but she couldn’t, though she hoped that she would disappear through the wall. 

“When I ask you to give me a kiss, it’s not a question. Let’s try it out.” Finally, he removed his hand and she heaved in a deep breath, exhaling in a loud cry. His hand captured her jaw, forcing her to look at him. “Now, what about a kiss?” He raised his eyebrow, clearly waiting to see if she would obey. All she did was try to shake his hand off. 

“Fine!” He snarled, pulled out and gave her a hard and brutal thrust that made her scream drown out his deep-felt moan. “What about now?” He purred, but the seductiveness was ruined by his clenched teeth. Now he could without a doubt see the tears in her eyes, but she didn’t even look like she considered it yet. 

This time, he violently trusted two times into her. Again her scream drowned his satisfied grunts. 

“Now, baby?” He asked, his lips under an inch from hers. Her eyes darted shortly to his lips, she was starting to consider it. 

He let his tongue run invitingly over his lower lip. “Come on, last chance.” He lured as he gave her lips a lick, which only made her throw her head back into the tiles. Raising his eyebrows, he silently gave her another chance. When she didn’t meet his lips, only looked at them, he grabbed harder onto her thigh around his waist before giving her three hard and deep thrusts where he grunted out his pleasure. 

“Baby, I think your ass is starting to bleed, so what about that kiss? I’m only hard on you until you learn your manners.” He panted heavily between the sentences, his cheeks were already red with exhilaration over the tightness of her. 

The last sentence was clearly a promise. But she had learned not to trust his promises. “I can’t trust you!” She whined out and sniffed, her tears blended with the water. 

“Kiss me and find out.” He dared her. 

She only thought about it for two seconds before she reached the conclusion – what did she have to lose? So she leaned forward and pressed her lips against his. On the small jolt he made before he moaned, it was clear she had taken him by surprise with her willingness. 

Their lips worked together, but she didn’t grant his tongue access, though he tried. His hand holding her jaw sneaked to the back of her neck and grabbed her hair. 

As a reward, he slowly pulled out of her ass. When his member slipped out, she parted her lips in relief. His tongue immediately took advantage and pushed into her mouth. She allowed it, but her eyes were squeezed shut to try and deny where she was. Her mind fought to picture him as someone else. Not that he wasn’t good looking. Sadly, he was smoking hot. But what he had done to her, made him utterly unattractive to her. Her knowledge about him being a demon made her sure that this wasn’t what he really looked like. She was convinced it was just a shell. 

She had to pull away now. Her thoughts made it impossible for her to continue the kiss. To her relief, he let her. His teeth dug into his lower lip as his hungry gaze kept lingering at her lips. 

“Good girl.” He praised her. Though his hardness wasn’t inside her anymore, she could still feel it between her legs. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He asked, his hand holding her hair now stroked her bruised cheek. 

He let her thigh around his waist go, and she now stood on both her feet. “You were a good girl, now I’m gonna be good to you.” He promised, though she still didn’t believe him. But to her surprise, he reached up and unhooked her cuffs from the snap hook on the ceiling. 

The blood rushed to her arms and it prickled in her hands as she lowered them in front of her. 

“You see how this works, baby?” He asked and stole a quick kiss at the end of the sentence before she could react or protest. “Do you wanna hear a secret?” He then continued. She hadn’t answered his first question yet, neither did she give him an answer on the second, so he just continued. “I’m not the type of person that does something ‘nice’ for others. Actually, I have two secrets for you, baby. The other is, that I’ve never kept one of my playthings for more than a day or two.”

She wrinkled her nose when he referred to her as one of his ‘playthings.’ “But I’m gonna keep you for a very long time. Don’t look at me like that, you brought this on yourself. You were the one that chose to bite me, remember?” 

Getting reminded of his ‘plans’ for her made the despair run through her with renewed force, and her tearful eyes were easy to see even though they were under the shower. He stroked her cheek, put some of her hair behind her ear, and continued to stroke it. His member rubbed lightly between her legs as he talked. 

“But now that you are staying, I might do something nice now and then if you’re a good girl. Being a big bad demon can be quite exhausting sometimes.” Just for fun, he showed her his black eyes and he rejoiced when she jolted slightly. 

“Anyway, let’s get this over with and get you back to bed, I have somewhere to be soon.” His tone that had been soft but arrogant now got a harder edge as he showed her down on her knees. The sudden attack surprised her and she screamed and fought against it. But he was stronger and faster than her and her knees hit the tiles on the floor with a thud. Pushing her forward, he positioned her, so her head and upper body were against the cold tiles on the wall, the cascades of water now poured directly down on her. 

His arm wrapped around her throat as he kneeled behind her. “You look so good when you’re kneeling in front of me.” He whispered in her ear before he guided his member into her ass. When she screamed, the water filled her mouth. She had a hard time keeping her eyes open too because of the water. Her tears got washed away as quickly as they came. 

She would have screamed something like, ‘you promised to be nice,’ but she was busy spitting water out of her mouth. A part of her wasn’t surprised that his version of ‘nice’ was completely different than hers. 

His pace into her wasn’t as gentle as when he started, but not as hard as when he punished her. He had to resist the urge to thrust hard and merciless into her, he had to take just a little bit care of her ass. 

His lips were close to her ear, making sure she would hear every one of his passionate moans and grunts over her screaming and crying as he pleased himself in her ass. “Oh, stop whining!” He hissed through clenched teeth as his arm tightened around her throat. “Of course, I’m gonna finish in your ass, you slut. I said I would be nice, but I’m not a saint. There’s limits to how nice I can be because I’m a fucking demon!” He couldn’t help his eyes from turning black at that last sentence even though she couldn’t see it. It was like a reflex. 

“You would think you would have gotten used to getting it in the ass by now, baby.” He taunted. 

Every one of his thrusts sent her body thumping against the cold tiles. His words made shame and anger rush through her. The more he violated her, the more it hurt for every time. But being in constant pain for as many hours as she had, you learn to overcome it more and more, but it doesn’t get easier. To try and distract herself, she tried to figure out how long she had been here. Maybe a day? She had gone home with him around midnight, and then he had abused her for most of the night. After that, he had forced a roofie down her throat to make her sleep. How long had she slept? And then she got knocked out shortly after. The wall clock she saw when he led her in here had said a little past 2. It must be 2 a.m. 

A harder thrust ripped her out of her welcoming distraction. He was upping his tempo into her. By his breathing and grunts, she assessed that it was soon over. His arm around her throat only loosened now and then for a couple of seconds for her to heave in one or two deep breaths before he tightened again. If it wasn’t because of the fact that she was trapped between the wall and Dean, she was sure she wouldn’t have been able to keep herself up on her knees. The heavy vertigo and dizziness filled her, but the pain didn’t decrease one bit. 

“I’m soon gonna come in your ass again. How many times have I come in your ass? God, I’ve lost count.” His tempo increased further, widening her, stretching her beyond what she thought was possible. It was like sandpaper was moving in and out of her and not a dick. 

“Come on, scream!” He snarled as he loosened his arm around her throat. She didn’t mean to obey him, but after dragging in a deep breath, she couldn’t help but do as he said. “No one can hear you out here but me.” He mocked her. 

“I think your ass is bleeding again. Do you know what the best lube in the ass is besides your own sperm?” He continued to taunt her breathlessly as he chased his release. “That’s right. It’s blood.” He continued without waiting for an answer. It was hard to determine if she really was bleeding with the Vaseline and the water, but he had fucked so many asses in his time as a demon that he knew more or less what they could take. And he was starting to know her ass by now, and he was pretty sure he was right. 

Just the thought of her bleeding pushed him further towards his climax. He found it a little hard to reach it this time. He was tired, had fucked her this morning, and hadn’t slept after he had been out working and buying all those things to make her captivity easier for him. But he was nearing, though he seemed to miss that final push over the finish line. 

“Is that some moans I hear? I think you’re lying when you say you don’t like getting it in the ass. Are you a little liar, you dirty little slut? I might have to punish you for that.” He couldn’t help but taunt, mock, and deride her. It always worked when he was close. “Your ass is mine and I’m gonna come in it whenever I like. You say you’re not a pet to be kept, well, you’re not a pet. You’re something less. You’re my toy. My personal little rape-doll. You’re an object. Do you get that? You’re nothing! And–oh fuck, I’m coming in your ass!” His way to his climax suddenly escalated. That last sprint up to his orgasm was fast and nearly took him by surprise as the effects of his condescending had been far more effective than first assumed. 

Her scream rose to a hysterical high-pitch as he gave her three last, powerful thrusts to empty himself completely. “Shut up.” He growled as his arm cut her off mid-scream and gave her a punishment-thrust. But his tone didn’t sound as threatening as he was still in a daze caused by his climax. 

For a few moments, he held still inside her while his heart rate and breathing calmed a bit. She whimpered when he pulled out of her. His load and blood that ran out of her were washed down the drain. 

“Stay!” He ordered as he got to his feet, and for good measure, gave her a push that made her fall to the side. She curled up on the floor as she cried. After washing his member clean, he got out, found a towel, and dried his body. 

It wasn’t her intention to obey his demeaning order, but her body was hurting and she couldn’t seem to find the strength to do anything else than keep lying on the floor. 

After putting on a clean pair of boxers, he turned off the water and by her upper arm, he dragged her out of the shower and up on her feet. With a new towel, he started drying her body. 

“Shut up. This is me being nice. If I wanted to, I could have left you here chained to the ceiling all wet until I decided to come back.” He threatened. 

When he had dried her, after spending unnecessarily long time at her breasts and between her legs, he wiped the mist off the mirror. He removed her long brown hair from her back that was turned towards the mirror. “Look at your back.” He demanded as he pushed her head to the side to make her look in the mirror. 

Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped as she saw all the bite marks that marred her neck, shoulder, and most of her left shoulder blade. That was why she felt so sore and tender! You could clearly see the purple teeth marks inside a red ring. There were at least fifteen bite marks, if not twenty scattered over her skin. 

Disbelief painted her face. She felt like yelling, ‘what the fuck did you do to me,’ but something told her to keep that to herself. 

“I’ve marked you like a piece of cattle. Do you like it?” He mocked with a cruel smile she could see in the mirror. 

He spun her around, so her back was against his chest. “Look at your cheek. That on your forehead was your own fault.” He noted the last thing dryly without any remorse. “That’s what happens when you’re a bad girl.” His arm laid around her lower abdomen and pushed her back as his hips shot forth with a grunt, rubbing against her ass. A violated and surprised sound leaked from her lips.

He chuckled fiendishly. “Naah, I’m just kidding. I don’t have more time for you right now. I have more important things to deal with.” His hand grabbed the chain of her handcuffs and dragged her back to the bedroom. Throwing her on the bed, he quickly fastened the handcuffs to the head of the bed. He didn’t even bother to put the duvet over her before he turned off the light and locked the door behind him, leaving her in complete darkness again. 

 

She felt like crying, but her tear ducts remained dry. She felt so powerless and the despair tore in her. 

Soon she started to feel cold. It took some time to get herself eased under the duvet beneath her, but she was glad that she had something to do, to distract her. 

The image of her bruised and marked back haunted her. Another proof that he had abused her while she was unconscious. 

The darkness did a perfect job at obscuring her sense of time. To her, she could have laid there everything from two to eight hours. She actually wished that she had a clock. Having ‘control’ over knowing what time it was, was better than having no control at all, even thought it was such a small thing. 

She tried to sleep, but her thoughts wouldn’t let her. They flooded her mind with images, feelings, pain, his endless taunting… but eventually, she drifted in and out of a restless sleep. You know those where you close your eyes and you don’t know if two minutes or two hours had passed by before you looked at the clock. Sadly, she didn’t have a clock to look at. 

The fact that she didn’t have a clock pissed her off more and more. She happily focused her energy on cursing over the missing clock. It was better than everything else. 

A thought struck her. He said he might be nice now and then. Maybe he would let her have a clock, a digital one so she could see the numbers in the darkness. 

 

At some point, the locked clicked. She jolted and her eyes flew open. She hadn't heard him enter the house. Her breath increased along with her heartbeat. 

Please go away! Please go away! She begged silently in her mind. 

The door opened. He walked into the room without turning on the lights. Her eyes followed him in the scant light coming from the open door as he walked around the bed. Reaching the opposite side, he turned on the dull bedside lamp. Even though it was weak, she had to squint after being in darkness for so long. 

He walked back to the door and locked it. On his way back to the opposite side of the king sized bed, he discarded of his clothes and finally laid down on the bed. 

“Goodnight, bitch.” He mumbled and turned off the light. He sighed deeply as he made himself comfortable. 

Soon after, she heard him snore lightly. First then, her body relaxed. He wasn’t gonna do anything to her, he just went to sleep. She nearly rejoiced. 

Then the reality dawned on her. How could she be so happy just because some psycho chose not to rape her? Despair quickly filled her again. 

 

The night, or day, she didn’t know which it was, passed tormenting slow. Her sleep was sporadic and restless. 

At some point, Dean woke. She kept her eyes closed and pretended to sleep as she heard him get up and get dressed. 

When the door closed behind him and she heard the lock click, she exhaled powerfully, unaware that she had held her breath. 

She heard him leave the house, the rumbling of the engine and she breathed a sigh of relief. Now she was alone again. It was better compared to everything else. 

 

Hours passed. She couldn’t sleep. She spent as much time as she could being annoyed over the missing clock. Both to make the time go by, but also to distract her from how hungry and thirsty she felt. 

When she had spent god knows how long on that, she began humming different tunes and melodies, just to make the time pass. 

 

The sound of an engine and tires in the gravel made her stop her humming. He was back! This time, she clearly heard him enter the house, his boots on the floor, leading him to the bedroom. She stifled a whimper as the door opened. 

“What’s up, you little slut?” Dean greeted in a condescending tone as he leaned against the doorframe.


	3. Chapter 3

“Please, just leave me alone.” Her tone had a tired hint. 

“But I have a present for you. And I bet you’re hungry.” He sounded almost cheerily at the first sentence, the other was dripping with scorn. 

A present? She had a feeling it wasn’t a good present. But she was actually hungry and thirsty. 

He turned on the light and walked to her bedside where he sat on the edge. He held a package in his hand. The outside of the box didn’t reveal its contents. Deftly he unpacked it and held an object between them. 

It looked like a… a taser gun? 

With a smirk, he turned it on, revealing that the cartridge was removed, making an electric arc between its two electrodes instead. It lit up and clicked repeatedly as the electric current passed through the electrodes. What the hell kind of present was this?

“Don’t look so frightened.” He snapped. “This little baby will grant you access to the house while I’m home – not on your own of course, that’s ridiculous. You’ll be cuffed, but you’ll be allowed to be in the same room as me. Why do I need this to allow you to be in the same room as me, you might ask. Well, baby, here’s the trick. It’s set on a mode called ‘drive stun,’ meaning it’s not gonna make you cramp, but it will hurt like a bitch. It’s called pain compliance technique. I don’t think I have to explain it further to you other than if you try anything funny I _will_ tase you.” He had arrogantly studied the taser in his hand while he talked, but when he spoke the last four words, his green eyes bore into hers. 

“I think I should tase you just once, just so you know how it feels if you disobey me.” He pondered while a smile lurked at the corner of his lips. 

“No. No…” She started shaking her head hectically while trying to back up as much as she could. “No. No, don’t do this. I’ll be good. I’ll be good, I promise! Please!” 

He just smiled at her begging before he put the taser on her neck and turned it on. Her last word came out as a scream as the pain tore through her, her body completely rigid. It hurt so much she could hardly breathe, but she didn’t stop screaming. 

Finally, he removed it from her skin and her scream came to an end. The pain slowly faded by the second. “Hurts, doesn’t it?” He derided. 

She nodded while her body trembled as the last waves of pain faded. 

“Now you know what awaits if you’re being a bitch.” He simply stated as he loosened her cuffs from the head of the bed. He stood up and dragged her with him, but she instantly fell to her knees as her legs felt like jelly, not strong enough to support her weight yet. The pain from the wounds and bruises around her wrists was nothing compared to the taser. Actually, it helped her gather her focus and she staggered to her feet. 

He dragged her to the big closet where he found a strapless top so he didn’t have to uncuff her to get it on. Then he found some lace panties, a pair of pants, and some socks. She willingly followed his instructions as he dressed her like an oversized doll. The pain from the taser still eerily clear in her mind. 

After she was dressed completely in black, he dragged her to the living room and placed her on one of the chairs. All the curtains were down, again hiding if it was day or night.

Under the table was a chain fastened with a snap hook he connected to the chain of the handcuffs. He grabbed a glass from the kitchen, filled it with water, and placed it in front of her before he walked back to the kitchen, placed the taser next to him, and began finding different things in the fridge. 

She instantly took the water and drank almost all of it in one mouth-full. 

He found a dish where he put some sort of marinated meat into and put it in the oven. Then he found a casserole and started frying something that smelled like onion and garlic. 

Her stomach growled loudly when the smells reached her nose. She nipped to the rest of the water as she watched him, she had nothing else to do. 

Over the next ten minutes, he boiled rice, added different things to the casserole, ending with the meat that had been in the oven. 

He placed a bottle of water, two trivets, two plates, and cutlery on the table before retrieving the two casseroles from the kitchen. The taser now laid next to his plate. 

“Chicken tikka masala.” He announced. He sounded a bit annoyed as he poured rice and the chicken tikka masala on her plate. Then he poured her some more water from the bottle on the table.

It smelled heavenly. A part of her had suspected him of only feeding her moldy bread and water. A wave of gratitude rushed through her as she grabbed the fork and shoved two big mouthfuls into her mouth. Of course, she burned her tongue, but right now, she didn’t care. The chain to her handcuffs rattled every time she moved, but that she didn’t care about either. She was so hungry. She flushed the last of the mouthful down with some water before shoving in the next two forkfuls. 

“Just because you’re hungry doesn’t mean you have to eat like a pig.” He noted dryly, while he ate like a normal person, but he wasn’t the one that hadn't eaten in what… how many days had she been here?

“Sorry.” She mumbled and slowed down a bit. Hoping that if she pleased him, she could get some information in return. Though up until now she had been busy focusing on the food. And she just didn’t know how to ask without him simply telling her off. He seemed a little grumpy at the moment. 

“Is your name really Dean?” She asked in a small voice between two bites. 

He looked at her and narrowed his eyes a bit as if he was considering if he would even bother to answer. “Yes.” He shortly said. “Dean Winchester.” He then added like an elaboration. 

“Okay.” She nodded. So he was cocky enough to introduce himself with his own name to his victims. 

“Is it 8 a.m. or p.m.?” She asked in a frail voice after shooting a glance at the wall clock. 

“Are we eating cereal?” He mocked with narrowed eyes. 

Okay, so it must be 8 p.m. then. She sighed, his tone was harsh, but at least she had gotten some answers. 

“How long have I been here?” She asked so low she doubted he would hear her. 

“Three days.” He said like he couldn’t care less, but he still kept count, apparently. 

No wonder she was so hungry then. She tried to make the days fit her timeline. 

She came here, he… violated her. They slept. One day.  
She woke, he came, then knocked her out, she woke again. Two days.  
He took her to the shower, left her, came back to sleep, he got up to… go to work? Then came back and now they sat here. Three days. 

God, had it already been three days of this hell? She decided to push it aside and just enjoyed the good tasting food. 

When she finished her plate, she asked timidly, “Can I please have some more?” She dared to look at him after her question. It was hard enough to eat and drink with her hands cuffed together, she hadn't even touched her knife yet, it was impossible to eat with both fork and knife as it was right now. And she didn’t know if it was okay to just take, she was also afraid that she would spill and he would get mad. The pain of the taser ghosted in her mind. 

“Looks who’s all compliant.” A smile flittered over his features before he continued in a harsher tone. “I don’t want you to get fat. On the other hand, you haven’t eaten in three days, so I guess it’s okay this time.” She held her breath while he argued with himself and a small smile of relief came to her lips as he poured some more on her plate. 

“Thank you.” She whispered. 

“It isn’t so hard to be a good girl, now is it?” When she looked up at him, he had a sly smirk and a mocking gleam in his eyes. 

She shook her head, right now, she just wanted to please him because she was so hungry. But she knew that deep down she wasn’t this submissive. She wouldn’t allow it. There was a reason why she bit him. But right now, she had to play her cards right, if she played good and submissive, he might not see an attack coming. 

His fist hammered into the table, she gasped in shock as she jolted. Her eyes found his. With a raised finger, he said, “You know I want a verbal response.” He snarled. 

“No. No, it’s not hard.” She hastily stammered. 

A smile pulled the corner of his mouth upwards, but not enough to break through or reach his eyes. “Good girl.” He praised her like she was a dog. 

She felt her cheeks heat with anger and defiance. The more satiated she was, the less she felt like pleasing him. But she had to play her cards right, find a way around that taser… 

“When you’re done, are you ready for a ride in the bedroom?” He asked with a flash of his eyebrows and a dirty smirk. 

She instantly gulped. No, not again… 

“I’m just kidding. I’ve raped you like what? Ten times over the last couple of days? Baby, I might be a demon, but demons need to sleep and rest sometimes too.” His arrogant tone was back. He was finished with his dinner and now leaned back with crossed arms. “I’m ready to rape you again in a day or two.” He sent her an air kiss and winked at her. 

His mercurial behavior confused her. It was like he turned on a dime sometimes. She swallowed thickly before she resumed eating. 

“Thank you. It was delicious.” She said in a small voice when she finished too. She thought the best thing was to behave. The more she behaved, the less he would expect her to do something to get away. And it was easier now that she knew she had at least a day or two before he would violate her again. 

“When you live alone in the middle of nowhere you have to learn how to cook.” He grumbled. 

He got up and released her from the table, dragged her to the black leather couch, and pushed her down on it. From under it, he drew another chain with a snap hook and fastened her. “I think you’ve earned some TV time.” He patted her bruised cheek before shoving the remote into her hands. “There’s Netflix.” He said as he walked back to the kitchen. 

She heard him clean the table, water running, plates scrambling. She was sure she noticed a dishwasher when she watched him cook. Turning her attention to the remote, she saw it was a Samsung Smart TV. She had one at home too, just smaller… thinking about her home, her two-bedroom apartment made tears fill her eyes. She just wanted to go home. 

Sniffing, she wiped her tears away with the back of her hand. She would find a way out of this. She promised herself that. 

Pulling herself together, she turned on the TV, found the Netflix app, and started scrolling. She settled on some political thriller series called _Homeland._

When he was done, he sat down next to her on the couch. With his right arm around her shoulders, he scooted closer, now he was leaned against her body. His face was turned towards her. She did everything she could to ignore him, but his left hand shot up, grabbing her jaw and ripped her face towards him. 

“You see how this works, baby? You do as I say and I’m nice to you.” The arrogant tone with the little smirk was back. 

She nodded, then remembered he wanted a verbal response. She had eyed the taser on the coffee table in front of them. “Yes.” 

“I think we’re gonna have a nice time, you and me.” He told her, the smirk grew wider. She didn’t respond either with nodding or words. 

“So, now I’ve made you a nice dinner and I’ve let you watch TV, how about a kiss for my efforts?” His smirk grew wider as he talked. 

With the ‘teaching of manners’ in the shower last night and the taser on the table, she knew she didn’t really have a choice, but that didn’t mean she had to like it. She swallowed thickly, then sucked it up, closed her eyes, and leaned forward to meet his lips. 

His hand around her shoulders moved up to her neck as he moaned into the kiss. She could feel he tried to pry her lips apart, but she just acted like she didn’t notice. “Part those pretty lips.” He then demanded in a whisper against her lips. 

Fuck… 

In anger, she clenched her teeth before hesitantly doing as he said. His tongue instantly intruded her mouth as he dominated the kiss. 

When are you done? She thought exasperated, but she had to keep up the submissive act. 

He forced his left hand between her closed thighs and started rubbing her. It was like he was deliberately testing her limits as a timid submissive. Squeezing her eyes tighter together, she started fantasizing about getting a hold of that taser and put it directly on his dick. Yes, that helped. That thought helped her to endure this. She knew he was stronger and he was smart, so she had to outsmart him, take him by surprise. 

His hand disappeared from between her legs only to travel to her behind. Through the fabric of her panties and pants, he poked her hole teasingly. 

A protesting sound leaked into the kiss and her body tensed up. He was provoking her, playing with her. He said he wouldn’t abuse her before at least a day. 

She had to play his game. 

She let out a moan as she in her mind tased him repeatedly. A little fantasy of stabbing a knife through his throat sneaked into her thoughts as well. 

Finally, he released her lips from hers with a satisfied smile. “God, I’m making a good little slut out of you.” Patronizingly he patted her cheek before he lounged himself across the couch with his head provokingly leaned against her. 

 

The rest of the night passed without any more mocking or humiliation of her. He didn’t even object to the series she chose. But she couldn’t relax properly. 

In bed after undressing her, he had demanded another kiss, but it wasn’t as humiliating. Just a short one. He fell asleep before her. Her thoughts kept her awake. She wanted to go home. She never wanted to see him ever again. 

She soon had to come up with a real plan, otherwise, she would go insane and get lost in the despair and hopelessness. 

 

Dean getting out of bed woke her. She kept her eyes closed and pretended to sleep, but a few minutes later, she jolted and her eyes flew open when a hand connected with her cheek. Not hard enough to jerk her head more than an inch to the side, but the sudden attack shocked her. “Rise and shine, slut.” Dean derided as he unfastened her from the head of the bed, but he didn’t drag away with her. 

What a way to wake someone up! She grumbled in her mind.

He threw the pants she had worn yesterday in her face and then found a plaid flannel shirt from the closet he, likewise, threw in her face. The shirt was his, it smelled of him. Not that he smelled bad, but the smell of him just repulsed her by now. 

He had allowed her to keep the panties on while she slept. With a lot of struggle, she got the pants on, but when she came to the shirt, she simply looked at it. She didn’t know how to get it on with her hands cuffed. 

Dean noticed it and quickly uncuffed her left hand without a word. She rubbed her wounded and bruised wrist before putting on the shirt. It felt good to be covered up now that Dean stood in front of her with crossed arms, holding the taser in his hand, and an impatient look as he waited for her to finish. It was like she could hide a little in the oversized shirt. 

As she stood up, he grabbed her left wrist, making her flinch as his firm grip hurt. He looked indifferently at the wound and bruises before cuffing her again. 

In the living room, she dutifully sat down at the round table while he found breakfast. The fact that he didn’t drag her around and chained her up meant that her plan of playing ‘good girl’ worked so far. He didn’t feel the need to chain her as it was right now. 

“Coffee or tea?” Dean asked harshly from the kitchen.

“Tea, please.” 

When he poured cereal for her, she ate like a civilized person, as she wasn’t as starving as yesterday. She eyed the taser on the table next to him. How fast was he? Could she distract him and get it before him? 

Suddenly, Dean slammed his fist into the table and started yelling, “Goddammit! What did I tell you about zapping yourself inside my house!?” His angry outburst wasn’t directed at her, but at someone to her left. Her head whipped around and saw a man in his fifties with black hair and beard. He was wearing a long black coat over his suit. She couldn’t help but gasp. Where did he come from?

“I’m sorry, Dean, but we need to talk. I wasn’t aware that you had guests.” He talked with a British accent as he eyed her from head to toe, his eyes lingering at her chained hands. “Well, hello, sweetheart.” He smiled at her. With open mouth, she just stared incredulously back at him.

She didn’t know what to say or what to do. Apparently, they knew each other and the mysterious man didn’t seem to find it weird that she was wearing handcuffs. 

“This is my house, Crowley. Use the fucking door.” Dean snapped as this Crowley joined them at the table. 

“Take it easy, Dean. Mind your blood pressure.” Crowley said unaffected. 

Dean immediately shot him a burning glare that made her wince even though it wasn’t directed at her. She looked down instead and saw she had spilled some tea. Unnoticed, she wiped it off with her sleeve before Dean could see it while Crowley talked, “I need you to take care of this little thing we discussed yesterday. It has evolved in a way I hoped it wouldn’t and I need your assistance.” 

She wondered if her presence was why Crowley talked so unspecific. 

“Fine. Just let me finish my breakfast.” Dean grumbled and unhurriedly continued his coffee and cereal. 

“She’s pretty,” Crowley said as he turned his attention to her. 

“I don’t share.” Dean snapped. 

“What you’re doing in your free time isn’t really my thing,” Crowley noted with a hint of sarcasm. “Though I didn’t knew you were starting to keep them.”

She couldn’t believe that this Crowley person, first of all, knew what Dean was doing. Second, condoned it or at least didn’t do anything about it! And that they talked about her like she wasn’t even there!

“She’s special.” Dean simply said without elaborating and finished his coffee. 

“She must be,” Crowley noted and now scrutinized her like she was a piece of art or something similar while Dean cleaned up after their breakfast. 

“Come on, slut.” Dean pulled her chair a couple of inches back and broke the stare down she was having with Crowley. If he could look at her like that, she could glare back. Silently telling him that she wasn’t an object to be studied. 

To keep Dean fooled, she did as he told her and she followed him back to the bedroom, where he chained her to the head of the bed. 

He left her in the darkness without saying a word. 

Her day passed slowly. She kept going through the bizarre scenario that had happened this morning and wondered who exactly this Crowley person was. She reached the conclusion that he must be a demon too if he knew what Dean was doing and was able to look the other way. 

Then she, again, cursed over the missing clock. She decided she would ask Dean for one when he came back. 

 

Finally, she heard a car in the driveway. She was thirsty and had to pee. When he entered the bedroom and turned on the light, she was about to ask him if he would take her to the bathroom, but then her eyes got used to the light and see could see him clearly. Her mouth fell open as her brow furrowed. She was… disturbed… and frightened. 

His face was spattered with blood. There were big tufts of dried blood in his hair. His clothes were filled with blood. Especially his left side, his green shirt and blue jeans were completely rust red like he had been lying in a pool of blood. 

All that blood! She thought she was going to be sick. She felt nausea rise in her throat as the smell reached her. 

What had he done? What kind of monster held her captive?


	4. Chapter 4

“Are you afraid of a little blood?” He asked with a raised eyebrow when he saw her frightened face. 

She gulped, wanting to say something, but her mind was blank. He had a look in his eyes she hadn't seen before and it scared her along with his appearance. But when he took a step closer, the words came back to her mind, “Please don’t hurt me.” 

He chuckled as he found her plea pathetic and continued to her bedside. One of his hands were hiding behind his back. 

She imagined it could be a knife. He looked like someone who had been on a murder-spree and now he was headed for her. 

“You really think that bad of me?” He noted slightly offended as he showed what he had hidden behind his back; a bottle with some cream and padded handcuffs. She instantly relaxed a bit, though the smell of blood was amplified now that he was so close. She swallowed thickly to keep the puke down. 

“I’m gonna uncuff you now, and you’ll behave because I have the taser in my back pocket. Got it?” He asked with raised eyebrows. 

“Yes.” She nodded and relaxed a tad more. 

He released her from the headboard and then took the metal handcuffs off. “Sit up.” He demanded before she could do anything by herself. Dean sat down next to her on the bed. 

When she sat up, she crossed her legs. She really had to pee, but she didn’t want to interrupt him and lose the opportunity for a glimpse of kindness. 

Her wrists were practically one big wound surrounded by bruises. He took the cream, she saw it was Neosporin. It was an antibiotic ointment with pain relief effect. When he rubbed it on her wrists, she inhaled sharply as it stung. 

A knot formed in her stomach as appreciation filled her. She was glad he attended to her wounds, but a part of her screamed that it was pathetic that she could be so thankful for so little. He was, after all, the one that had made them on her. 

She watched as his hands took care of hers one by one. He was careful, but he could have been gentler. After he was done, he took the new padded cuffs and put on her. They were made from black leather, had a buckle, and a small padlock. But there was soft fur on the inside that relieved the pain. The chain between the two cuffs was longer than the one on the old cuffs. It was about eleven or twelve inches if she had to take a guess. 

“Thank you.” She whispered when he was done. 

“Don’t want the wounds to get infected, it would be so much trouble for me, then I would have to get you actual antibiotics, maybe even tie your arms together with old-fashioned rope, listen to your whining... nope, too much trouble.” His tone was harsher as he talked down to her. He wanted to make sure that she understood that he wasn’t doing this for her, but for his own convenience. 

“Lie down. I’m gonna go take a shower.” He ordered. 

“Can you please take me to the bathroom first?” She asked as sweetly, but submissively as she could. “I-I need to pee.” She explained when he looked at her with narrowed eyes. 

“Fine. But hurry up.” He replied annoyed as he gestured towards the door. Apparently, she was allowed to walk on her own. 

“Thank you.” She said as she hurried out the bedroom. This longer chain was making it a lot easier for her and the padded cuffs meant it didn’t hurt every time she moved. It was a relief. 

When she washed her hands, she took a look at herself in the mirror. She looked awful. Her left cheek was bruised, now it looked more greenish with purple splatters. The bump on her forehead had the same color around the laceration, but it was healing nicely. Her hair was tangled in big chunks and her eyes were a little red. 

When she was done, she dutifully walked back to the bedroom so Dean could chain her while he took a shower. 

He really took his time. Almost an hour passed before he came back with a towel around his waist and unfastened her from the head of the bed with the words, “Good little slut.” And a patronizing pat on her bruised cheek. 

Patiently she sat on the bed until he had gotten dressed. She remembered him saying that she could be in the same room as him. Though her mind raced to find a way to get that taser away from him. 

“Come on, slut.” He demanded as he headed for the living room. She repressed a snarky comment before she followed. 

Again, she sat at the round table while he made dinner, but this time, she wasn’t chained to the table. With her hands, she tried to get a hold of her hair and get the tangled tufts combed out. 

When all the knots in her hair was gone, she dared to go to the kitchen but made sure not to get in his way. “Who was that man that came by this morning? Crowley?” She asked him. 

“King of Hell.” He simply answered as he stirred in one of the casseroles. 

“King… of Hell?” She said uncertainly. 

“Yeah, that’s what I said.” He snapped. “Are you stupider than you look or something?” He then mocked as his green eyes laid on her. 

She couldn’t help but wince at his mean comment. “No, I just don’t understand… doesn’t Lucifer rule over hell?” 

“Okay, so you are stupid.” He sighed exasperatedly. Again, she winced at his baleful tone. Rolling his eyes, he then sighed again and started to explain in an annoyed tone, “Lucifer is locked in a cage because he was being a fucking dick. Crowley took over Hell in his absence.” 

“So Crowley is also a demon?” She hesitantly asked, afraid of seeming ‘stupid’ again. 

“Yes.” Dean nearly snapped. Well, that explained a lot about why he would just let Dean get away with kidnapping, abuse, rape…

“So you serve Hell?” She tried to make all the pieces of the puzzle fit in her head. 

“I don’t serve anybody.” He growled threatening through clenched teeth, which made her take a step back. She knew she had hit a nerve of some kind. 

“Okay, got it.” She quickly said after swallowing loudly. To get away from his fuming attitude, she took the plates from the cupboard and set the table. 

As they ate, she tried brewing on her escape plan. It wouldn’t be tonight. After she asked about him serving Hell, he had seemed pissed off and tense. She wouldn’t be able to catch him off guard and get the upper hand when he was like this. And today, he had kept the taser in his back pocket. 

While eating, Dean thought about the fact that he was keeping her. Having a sex slave had never really been his thing. That’s why he hadn't done it before. But when he made a threat, he meant it, and she had brought this on herself. When you make a threat, you have to follow through. Otherwise, people didn’t take you seriously. And he had actually given her a choice. If she had been smart, she had been home by now. 

But though he had to take some extra precautions and do a little extra work, it was actually pretty interesting to keep her. Slowly breaking her, see her all timid. How she obeyed his smallest command with that defiant gleam in her eye. He knew she was a ticking bomb, he could see it clearly in her eyes. At some point, she would lash out, like when she had bitten him and he promised to keep her here. He actually looked forward to when she would try to fight back. That meant he got to punish her. He smiled devilishly at the thought.

This night, she didn’t get to decide what to watch. Instead, Dean put _Game of Thrones_ on. But she didn’t object, there were worse things to watch. He didn’t provoke her with demanding kisses or touching her, only leaned against her as he had done the day before. 

She breathed a sigh of relief when he didn’t chain her to the headboard but locked the door instead. She breathed yet another sigh of relief when he laid down next to her with only the bedside lamp on, thinking he was going to sleep immediately. Dodging another day of abuse. 

“So, baby, how about you give me some of that ass?” He propped himself up on his elbow and looked at her. From the corner of her eye, she could see the sly smirk on his lips. Instantly her body tensed up and her breath stilled. 

No…

She gulped and bit her lower lip to stop it from quivering. Her breath accelerated in fear. Slowly, she shook her head. 

“You think you can say no to me?” His hand grabbed her jaw and forced her to look at him. Most of all, he sounded amused, but his eyes had turned black. A stifled whimper came over her lips. 

“Please…” She whispered in a trembling voice. 

“Come on, baby.” He winked at her, the black eyes gone. His smirk had a threatening hint. “Fine, then I’m just taking it.” His light tone turned menacing throughout the sentence. 

“No.” She protested frightened. “No. No. No! No!” She said louder and louder until she yelled as he ripped the duvet off her, spread her legs, and laid down between them. He did it almost too easily, considering how hard she fought to keep him at a distance. As he leaned over her, she put her hands on his shoulders to push him away while her legs uselessly tried to get rid of him as well. Now the long chain between her cuffs was against Dean’s throat. Quickly, she moved her hands over his shoulder, causing the chain to dig into his skin. 

He smiled condescendingly, flashing his straight, white teeth, which reminded more of a sneer. “What are you gonna do? Strangle me?” He mocked with a fiendish chuckle. 

She was just about to put her hands around his neck and do it when he, in a blink of an eye, grabbed her wrists and slammed them down on the pillow on each side of her head. The chain now against _her_ throat. A frightened gasp leaked from her lips as her head tilted back to get as far away from him and the chain as possible. 

“As much as I’d love to see you try, I’m actually getting really horny.” He taunted in a low voice as he slowly leaned closer to her face. His hands moved hers farther apart, causing the chain to press harder and harder against her throat. 

Her breathing became strained. “Stop… I can’t breathe…” She pushed out with a stifled groan. 

“Isn’t that the point of strangling someone?” The smirk grew wider as he tilted his head to the side until it was a sneering grimace. He started rubbing himself against her as he watched her struggle underneath him. 

Her airways closed. Pointlessly she tried to drag in a breath, but she couldn’t. Dizziness started to creep in on her as the, almost well-known feeling of vertigo filled her. Now her whole body twitched as she fought to throw him off her, but he was too strong… 

A tear spilled down her temple as her sight got black spots and her eyelids fluttered. 

Finally, he moved her hands back to her head, the chain now loose. She heaved in a deep breath before she continued in a coughing fit so strong, she thought she was gonna throw up. The coughs shook through her whole body. 

“You see, baby? Strangling someone isn’t very nice.” He snarled at her. “And for that, I’m gonna take you in this position. Actually, I thought I would just kiss a little with you and then flip you to your stomach, but that isn’t happening now, you dirty slut.” He held the chain over her head. His face was just exactly out of reach of her hands now. 

Leaning to the side, he grabbed something from the floor, the bottle of Vaseline, and let go of the chain. Quickly, he covered his fingers of his right hand in it and headed for her behind. To avoid being strangled again, she put her hands on his chest and with futility tried to keep him at a distance. 

“No. no, Dean, please. Please don’t do this! Please! Dean, please! Stop!” She cried desperately. Tears were already filling her eyes as she felt the fear and powerlessness fill her. She was spiraling into his grip and she begged him like she had never begged him before. 

“Now who said you could use my name?” He growled. His fingers hovering at her hole as his left hand grabbed her hair and dragged her face in front of his. He knew how feeling his breath on her skin affected her. “Sluts don’t get to use my name.” He told her sternly. A cruel smile played at the edges of his lips. 

“Now what would be most humiliating for you to call me? Let’s see…” As he thought, his Vaseline covered fingers retreated from her ass. He gave a yank in her hair and she gasped surprised and in pain. Her parted lips allowed him to push his fingers into her mouth and started absentmindedly moving them back and forth along with rubbing against her again. “Hmm… ’Sir’ sounds so formal…” He mumbled as he looked up at the ceiling like he was looking for answers. 

The sticky consistency laid like a bitter tasting layer inside her mouth. With her tongue, she tried to push his fingers out, but that just spread the Vaseline further. When she shook her head, he simply pressed his fingers deeper down her throat. 

“Hmm, do you have daddy issues?” He asked and looked directly at her to observe her reaction. To her own mortification, she shrunk under his gaze by the question. “Oh, bingo. Of course, you do. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be so cheap and slutty that you’d go home with a complete stranger. Bet you regret that now.” A wide, vicious smile spread on his face and a whimper seeped out past his fingers from her. 

“So, from now on, you’ll call me daddy. Understood?” His tone got harsher as he set his command. “Is that understood?” He yelled in her face and yanked in her hair when she didn’t answer immediately. First now, he removed his fingers from her mouth. 

She swallowed to get the uncomfortable Vaseline layer to go away. “Y-yes.” She stammered tearfully with quivering lower lip. 

“Yes, what?” He thundered. “I want you to say it. Say, ‘yes, daddy.’” His tone was as taunting as ever. 

She struggled to get the words past the lump in her throat. Her cheeks got more heated and red as she grew more chagrined by the humiliation it would be to say what he demanded. 

His index finger and thumb captured her left nipple and kept pinching it for every second of her silence. She gasped in pain and then cried out as he started to twist it. “Ow! Okay, okay! Yes, daddy!” She screamed in pain as a couple of tears brimmed over in her eyes. 

“Good girl.” He praised as he let go and left her panting of pain. Now his fingers moved back to her ass, hovering right outside her hole. His index finger circled her a couple of times before he pushed it inside her. She whimpered in protest. 

“You want daddy’s fingers in your ass?” He asked tauntingly as he pushed his middle finger into her as well. She gasped at the intrusion. 

“No.” She gulped and shook her head. 

“No, what? Say it!” He sneered and shoved his fingers as deep into her as he could. 

“No, daddy.” She cried. The humiliation heating her cheeks further. She moved underneath him as his fingers moving in and out of her ass hurt as he stretched her. But every time her body moved upwards, he rubbed his hard member between her legs to push her back down. 

“Aw, why not? Would you rather have daddy’s dick?” He made the mocking sound as a treat. 

“No, daddy.” She instantly said while she shook her head hectically with big frightened eyes. 

“Well, slut, you’re gonna get it whether you like it or not. You should just be glad that I even bother to warm up your ass.” His arrogant tone shone more clearly through as his expression darkened. “Now, thank me for it.” He demanded. 

“Thank you, daddy.” She whispered defeated as the powerlessness overwhelmed her as she realized there was no way around it and the tears now streaked continuously down her cheeks. 

“I want you to say, ‘thank you, daddy, for warming up my ass.’” He derided balefully. 

The humiliation flooded her, mixing with the pain she was already feeling. Instead of an answer, came only a sob. Dean brutally shoved another finger into her that made her back arch in pain as another sob escaped her. 

“Thank you, daddy, for warming up my ass.” She pushed out through the tears and gritted teeth. Her eyes were squeezed shut, as she couldn’t stand looking at him anymore. 

“Good girl.” He praised and pressed his lips onto hers. She tried to move away from him, but he just pressed his lips harder against hers until it hurt. His fingers in her ass took it up a notch as well, making her whine into the unwilling kiss. 

As his lips released her, his fingers retreated from her ass. She breathed a short sigh of relief when the intrusion into her ceased. But she knew it would be replaced by something so much worse. 

He let go of her hair and pulled back a little to cover his member in Vaseline. Pulling her legs up, she could get her knees on his chest and pushed him as hard as she could. But she barely moved him an inch. 

Dean let out a condescending chuckle as he grabbed her knees and forced her legs apart. 

“No. No. Please don’t do this. Please don’t do this.” She cried as he laid on top of her again, guiding his member to her second hole. 

“Now be a good girl and take it in the ass. Be a good girl and take daddy’s dick in your ass.” He taunted as he started pushing into her. 

A scream tore her lips apart as he forced his way into her and made a sharp pain shoot through her. 

He let out a deep moan when he held still deep inside her. His hand grabbed her hair to make sure she didn’t look away from him. “Aaah, this is just what I needed after the day I’ve had.” He moaned satisfied. “What about you, baby? Do you like what I’m doing to you? Hmm?” His tone morphed into taunt as he pulled out and slowly entered her again. Her hands tapped uselessly on his chest as small sobs and cries of pain escaped her. 

He leaned closer to her, his lips under an inch from hers, “Do you like the way I’m fucking you?” He mocked. His breath stank of cigarettes and she winced when it reached her nose. 

His right hand slapped her, she cried out when his palm impacted with her already bruised cheek along with his hold in her hair made the slap feel much more vibrant. “Answer me.” He demanded. 

“No!” Her outburst was an answer to his question and a protest of what he was doing to her. 

“No, what?” He snarled and gave her another slap. 

“No…” A whine of pain followed by a sob interrupted her before she was able to whisper, “…daddy.” 

“Good girl.” He cooed and playfully licked her lips. Then his free hand grabbed her jaw in a firm grip to make her lips pout and sealed his lips to hers. 

She was unable to wrench her head out of his grip, but, nonetheless, she tried. She had given up on tapping on his chest and instead dug her nail into his skin. 

He ripped his lips from hers with a deriding smile, “If you really have to scratch me, scratch my back instead.” He demanded lustfully. His member still moved slowly in and out of her, making her body tense more and more in agony as he kept forcing himself on her. 

The warmth from his moans and close to panting breath, made her do another attempt to wrench her head free. Once again, her nails dug into his chest. 

He inhaled sharply and stopped his slow thrusts into her. “What did I say about scratching, little slut?” He asked overly sweetly. 

Her breath, strained from pain, calmed a little and her muscles relaxed just a bit. Now that he held still, the pain was almost tolerable. 

Letting go of her jaw, he slapped her. “What did I say?” He sneered through clenched teeth. 

“Y-your back.” She stammered tearfully. 

Raising his eyebrows, he waited for what she had left out with his hand raised, ready to slap her again. The threat in his gaze was clear to see, even through her tears. 

She swallowed around the lump in her throat and whispered barely audible, “Daddy.” The words nearly hurt her physically on the way over her lips. 

“That’s more like it.” His hardened features softened along with a smile breaking through on his lips. To her surprise, his hand let go of her. First, he put the chain between her cuffs over his head, now it laid around his neck. Then he put his arms through, the chain now rested on his upper back. Her cuffed hands dangling by his sides, under his arms. 

“There, that’s better.” With the chain on his back, his whole upper body was several inches closer to hers than before. Intruding every bit of her personal space. 

Without her hands between them to separate them, she found his closeness sickening and almost as intruding emotionally as his dick was physically. She wanted to put her hands between them again just to get some sort of distance. Every inch counted. But she wouldn’t be able to get the chain away from his back unless he allowed it. Which was highly doubtable. 

“Now where we’re so close and _intimate_ ,” His tone was a sneering ridicule when he said ‘intimate.’ “I better change that angle of your ass.” 

She gasped in fear at his words. What was he going to do now? 

“Relax, you scaredy slut. This is actually me being _nice_ to your ass. I don’t wanna destroy it, how else would we have some fun?” The first was in a harsh and snarling tone, the last he said in an almost charming tone with a dashing smile. 

His left arm hooked around her waist and lifted her as his right hand grabbed a pillow and shoved under her lower back before letting her go. Now his left hand moved up to her cheek. With his thumb, he removed some of her tears, only to lead it to his mouth and suck on it. Fully enjoying the salty taste of her tears. He smiled provocatively at her while doing so. 

A hint of disgust traced over her face. When he was done, he quickly grabbed her jaw and pushed his thumb into her mouth. While moving it firmly in and out of her mouth as she protested, he bit his lower lip as he watched her. 

“Now, how does this feel?” He asked as he pulled his member almost fully out and then pushed into her again. 

She whimpered loudly with his thumb still in her mouth. But she had to admit the pain wasn’t as worse like this, though it was worse enough to make the tears continue to streak down over her cheeks. 

“Does this feel better, you little whore?” He was talking in that overly sweet tone again as he pulled out his thumb. “Come on, answer me or I’ll have to slap you again.” He smiled and flashed his eyebrows like he wouldn’t mind slapping her again at all. 

“No-o-o…” She lied, her sobs made her draw out the vowel. 

“Hmm. I think you’re lying, baby. I can feel that your body isn’t as rigid of pain like it was just a minute ago. You don’t grit your teeth so hard I’m afraid you’re gonna break a tooth anymore. Should I go on?” He spoke low, his words piercing as he pointed out his evidence. 

When she didn’t answer, her face was already burning with shame, he sealed his lips to hers. Her whines seeped past his dominating lips. Then they deviated from hers and he kissed a path over her right cheek. For every kiss, he stopped to lick the tears off his lips until he reached her ear. His teeth captured her earlobe. Immediately, she pulled as far as she could to the left to escape him as a shiver noticeably ran through her. But it was limited how far away she could come with the chain of her cuffs around his upper body. 

He couldn’t help but smile at her obvious repulsion. “I’m gonna go harder on you now, sweetheart.” He whispered in her ear. His member was pounding by this slow rhythm and for several minutes, he had resisted the urge to go harder, but he couldn’t postpone it any longer. He yearned to go harder and faster, to chase his release, but he liked dragging it out and toying with her. 

When he upped his tempo, more and more for each thrust, her body again tensed up and became stiff by the agony. His right hand had found her hair and held it with a steely grip, his other hand had traveled down her body and clutched onto her plump ass. The way his fingers were digging into her skin, he knew he was leaving bruises. He kept his mouth close to her ear, so she could hear every single one of his satisfying moans over her crying and sobbing as she with futility fought to make him stop. 

“Don’t you like it, baby? Don’t you like having daddy’s dick in your ass?” He taunted as he came an inch closer to his release. 

The only response from her was to fight harder. Her body twisted and turned underneath him, but he was too heavy and too strong for her to fight. This time he let her get away with not answering him. But he wouldn’t stop mocking her, “Do you like being my little slut? My little slut that just waits around for me to come home. My little slut that’s so dick-hungry, but is afraid to admit it.” His tone was saturated more with disdain for every word. “I’m actually pretty sure it won't be long before you actually enjoy when I rape your ass.”

By now, they were both covered in sweat. Him from exertion and lust, she from fighting and pain, and the heat from having his body so close. 

Her hands were balled into fists at his sides, he felt the chain rub against his back for every thrust that slowly got harder and harder until it was unbearable for her. His lustful moans had turned into animalistic grunts. 

A thought struck down in her. _If you really have to scratch me, scratch my back instead._ That was what he had said. 

She swallowed thickly. Right now, her arms were pulled as far back to her body as they could get, stretching the chain across his back. Now she unclenched her fists and laid her arms around his back instead. A louder grunt came from him as he felt it, he definitely enjoyed it. 

Her fingers curled like a cat extending its claws and let them dig deep into his shoulder blades with such a force a grunt escaped her too. 

Dean groaned of the sudden pain but quickly retaliated with sinking his teeth into her neck and began thrusting even harder into her. She yelped loudly and then let her nails scrape down his back, drawing blood. With her shoulder, she tried to get him away as his teeth still had a hold of her, the pain spread and mixed with the agony from her behind. 

As her nails reached his lower back, she withdrew them from his skin, led them up to his shoulder blades, and latched onto him again, starting over. 

Dean’s teeth released the sensitive skin on her neck, moved down an inch, and bit her again. His loud, lustful grunts got muffled by her tender skin. 

It felt good to harm him, to feel how her nails drew blood. She reached his lower back and again started over from his shoulder blades. This time when his teeth released her skin, he moved his lips to her ear. “Is your nails scratching me in lust, baby? Is that as good for you as it is for me?” He chuckled devilishly into her ear. 

She let out a frustrated scream and scratched harder until her fingers were cramping.

“Have you noticed how your nails keep scratching new skin?” At first, she didn’t know what he meant by that comment and he mercilessly continued, “How is it that you can’t feel any of the scratches you’ve already made?” 

The meaning of his words dawned on her. Now that he pointed it out, she realized he was right. The next time she withdrew her bloody nails from his flesh, her fingertips explored his back. 

It was unharmed. 

But how? 

“Uuh, baby. That makes me all tingly.” He playfully growled into her ear while rolling his shoulder so she could feel his strong muscles work under her fingers. Instantly, she dug her nails into his skin again, which made him inhale sharply. 

“Fuck yes. Oh, it feels so good, baby.” He mocked her, which only made her more frustrated. She was on the verge of hysteria. The pain was overwhelming her as he viciously kept thrusting into her hurting opening. 

In pain, she clenched her teeth, her thighs squeezed around his waist to stop him from intruding her. Her nails kept at it on his back without a stop as she screamed and cried as he was chasing his release inside her. 

His grunts got wilder as his body ground against hers. Through his clenched teeth and strained breath, he managed to chant himself closer by taunting and deriding her, “Your ass was made for my dick. Does daddy’s little girl like having a dick in her ass? Fuck yes, you do. You like when I force myself on you and take you the way I want. I’m gonna come in your ass again, you dirty slut, and you like it. You like being filled with my load in your forbidden hole. Daddy’s little girl loves when daddy comes in her ass and fill her up. You like the thought of me taking your innocence in that tight little hole. I’ll always be the one that took your ass-virginity and then defiled and dirtied you up like a fucking little, nasty slut. Now I’m coming in your ass again, baby. I’m coming in your ass!”

The sweat visibly ran down his forehead and back where it mixed with the few drops of blood that emerged from his scratched back before the wounds closed again. His hand in her hair and on her ass tightened their grip, shudders rippled through him until he shouted out his orgasm as he gave her three more thrusts where he came and released deep inside of her. His last powerful thrusts made her scream ear shattering. 

Heavily panting, he rested some of his weight on her and wiped his sweaty forehead on her cheek. Her repulsion rose in her to the point where she thought she was going to be sick. She just wanted him off her. Releasing her nails from his back, she tried to get the chain over his shoulders and arms, but it was pointless. 

He felt her incessant tugging and lifted his head to look at her. “What is it, baby? Do you want more?” He asked with a lopsided smile and a dirty gleam in his eyes. 

Through her tears, she stared – no, glared – furiously up at him, her upper lip raised in contempt. 

“God, I’m just kidding. No need to look at me like I just killed your puppy, slut.” He rolled his eyes before closing them as he gave a small push into her ass where he up until now had held still. 

The pain shot through her and she whimpered. It had actually been somehow tolerable when he didn’t move after how hard he had just taken her. 

Rocking back and forth inside her, he slowly eased his member out of her tight hole. As soon as he was out, she felt how his load already spilled out of her in this position. But after a minute, the pain started to decrease. Then he grabbed the chain of her handcuffs and led it over his shoulders, arms and at last, his head. 

In a blink of an eye, he had grabbed her right hand in his. He turned her hand as he studied her bloody fingertips. Capturing her index finger with his teeth, he began sucking on it. 

Her face immediately curled up in disgust and turned it to the side, away from the distasteful scenario in front of her. But he didn’t let her. His free hand grabbed her jaw and ripped her head back, he had done it so many times now and so hard, that she felt like she was starting to have small dents after his fingers. Letting her, now clean, finger slip out of his mouth, he led her fingers to her own lips. 

She pressed her lips together so hard, they became a pale line. “What’s the matter, baby? Afraid of a little blood? Some say demon blood gives a little high.” He taunted. As always, when she didn’t open her mouth when he wanted her to, his fingers pressed on her jaw until it hurt so much she had to scream. Instantly he pushed three of her fingers into her mouth and moved her hand back and forth. 

Objecting whines came from her and she fought to get free of his grip and the awful salt and iron taste, but it was no use. She couldn’t stop or get free until he allowed her. 

When he had humiliated and played enough with her, he let her go, fastened the chain to the head of the bed before he got off her, sat at the edge of the bed, and let a hand run through his hair. “Now I need a shower again.” He sighed. 

Looking at his back, she could see trails and dried drops of blood, but there wasn’t a single scratch mark or wound. Not even a bruise. How was that possible? 

He got up and, without bothering to put on any clothes, walked out of the bedroom. 

In the couple of minutes, he was gone, she kept wondering about the fact that he healed so quickly. Maybe it was one of the ‘perks’ of being a demon. Though she was convinced, there were more downsides to being a demon than there were good. 

Her tears had finally stopped and she wiped her cheeks the best she could in the pillow. She also got the one under her lower back pushed away, though it hurt for every small move she made. 

To her relief, he simply went to sleep when he came back after putting the duvet over her and saying, “Goodnight, slut.” 

It took some time before she fell asleep. Her hurting body and her mind kept her awake. 

The next day, she woke up in complete darkness. It didn’t take long before she could determine that she was alone. Every move she made, she could feel the pain. It still burned in her behind. 

What time was it? Had he already left for work, or where the hell he is going during the day? Her stomach growled. She was hungry. 

After a few minutes, she tryingly called, “Dean?” She wondered if it was okay to call him that now. When nothing happened, she called again, this time, a little louder. 

She heard footsteps and then the door got opened. “Morning, slut.” Dean greeted as he turned on the lights. “Or should I say noon?” He added a little harsher like he was disapproving of her sleeping in like that. But at least he didn’t seem to have a problem with her calling him Dean.

Well, if he had a problem, he could have woken her up, she snarled in her mind. She decided it was best to keep snarky comments and probing questions to a minimum if she should get the chance to catch him off guard and get a hold of that taser. 

He released her chain from the head of the bed. When he reached the door, he shot her an impatient glance, so she got to her feet and took the clothes from the floor she had worn yesterday. Getting on the pants was easy. The oversized shirt that was his wasn’t so straightforward. “Um, a little help, please?” She asked and looked at her cuffed hands. 

Rolling his eyes, he took a key from his pocket and removed one of the cuffs. He watched her impatiently while she got the shirt on. As soon as her hands were through the sleeves, he cuffed her again before she could button it. 

She followed him to the living room. It looked like he had been in the middle of making a sandwich when she had interrupted him. With a glance at the clock, she saw it was 11:55 a.m. 

“Sandwich or cereal?” He asked tonelessly. 

“Cereal, please.”

A couple of minutes later, they sat at the round table. He had even made her tea. The TV was on, but the sound was off. 

Dean broke the silence by saying, “Isn’t that you?” and pointed at the TV with the remote as he turned on the volume on the news.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, Captivity is back on track. Sorry I took so long to update, but it got more confusing than I had predicted to work on LNE Original and LNE Captivity at the same time. Sorry, I overestimated myself, apparently.   
> And now that I had to read the previous four chapters to get into the story, I corrected a few (embarrassing) typos and stuff. (It’s okay to let me know if you catch a typo/spelling mistake/grammar error or something, I won’t get mad. In fact, I’m so perfectionistic that I’ll appreciate it. ;-) )  
> Happy (nasty) reading :-)

_“Natasha Dawson has been missing since Saturday, where she was last seen around 10 p.m. in the town square after parting with some friends. She’s 5’5” with brown hair and brown eyes. She was wearing a black dress, black trench coat, red stilettoes, and a little black purse when she went missing. The police have nothing to go on right now, but local search parties have already been organized.”_ The news reporter effectively delivered the information with a proper worried look. 

It was like getting an iron fist in the chest to see herself on the news like that, reminding her of her reality. At the top left corner was a picture of her from Facebook where she was smiling. It felt like so long ago for her now. Up until now, it had felt like she was in some sort of a parallel universe, but seeing herself on the news reminded her that the world outside kept going. Without her. 

Her apartment was empty. Monday morning they had waited for her at work, but she had never shown. Her phone would go unanswered every time someone would try to reach her… 

She had been too wrapped up in her personal hell to think about such things, to think about what happened in the real world. All she had focused on, could focus on, was pain, fear, and escape. 

She didn’t notice the tears in her eyes before they brimmed over. To prevent the sobs that built in her throat from escaping, she bit her lower lip hard, but a stifled sob found its way past her lips. The lump in her throat was nearly strangling her. 

“How about I leave your ass alone tonight?” Dean offered in a neutral tone. “Does that make you feel better?” He asked after a few seconds when she hadn’t responded.

When she looked at him, she saw, for the first time, that he had a small worrying line between his eyebrows. His eyes weren’t cold, mocking, or amused. The only word that came to her mind to describe it was ‘neutral’ just like his voice. Finally, she nodded barely noticeable, still fighting to keep her breakdown at bay. She was sure that if she let go and cried her heart out, it would only get worse. She couldn’t allow herself to fall apart if she should have any hope of escaping. 

Dean turned his attention to his sandwich, but after a few mouthfuls, he snapped, “You could at least say thanks or something now that I’m being so considerate.” His green eyes bore into hers when he looked at her. 

“Thank you.” She whispered tearfully after swallowing thickly several times.

Natasha didn’t touch more of her breakfast or tea. She couldn’t do anything but stare blankly ahead of herself. For a brief time, she let herself think of her family, her friends, her life. But only to build her strength to find a way to escape. 

A long time after Dean had finished eating, he realized she wasn’t going to eat the rest of her cereal or drink her tea, so he took it to the kitchen where he poured it in the sink and trash can before putting it in the dishwasher. 

He walked back to her and now stood in front of her, “Come.” He said, again in that neutral or somehow, undefinable tone. His hands laid under her arms and dragged her up. She only gave a small twitch as a response to his touch. The energy to constantly fight him had for a moment, left her. 

With his hands on her shoulders, he led her to the couch and handed her the remote. “Watch some TV. I have some small projects around the house to fix today, so I’m staying home.” He told her. 

She nodded with a sniffle and looked down at the remote, and then she didn’t reach any further. For a long time, she simply stared at the remote in her hands. 

Dean found a toolbox and a bag from a DIY store. He pulled the blackout curtains up, the light made her squint. When he opened one of the three windows to her right, the cold breeze touched her skin and gave her goosebumps, but she couldn’t gather the strength to put the blanket lying folded over one of the armrests of the couch over her. 

She heard him drilling and saw some of his movements in the corner of her eyes, but honestly, she didn’t care about what he was doing. 

 

He had finished whatever he was doing on two of the windows when he again stood in front of her. Natasha looked up and saw he was holding a banana in one hand and a green apple in his other. 

“No, thanks.” She mumbled and returned her gaze to the remote in her hands. 

“One day you eat like a horse and the next you barely touch your food.” Dean scolded. “Pick one.” He then demanded and held the fruits closer to her face. 

“I’m not hungry.” She mumbled without looking at him. It was a lie. She was hungry, but her appetite had vanished. 

Without a word, he grabbed her wrist and shoved the apple into her grip. “That better be gone before I’m done with the next window.” He warned in a stern voice as he pointed at her. 

With a deep sigh, she started nibbling the apple. When she had eaten a quarter of it, she felt her stomach calm. And for the first time, she took a look at the windows to see what he had been doing. At the bottom, in the middle of the window was a shiny hasp with a key-lock. Apparently, another measure to keep her inside. The first thought that popped up in her head was that a lock actually wasn’t that big of an obstacle. Just incapacitate Dean for five to ten seconds, and it would be enough to take one of the chairs from the round table and smash the window. She could use the beige blanket on the armrest of the couch to cover the sill to prevent herself from being cut by the remaining shards of the window and then she would be out. 

By that thought, she felt a little better. It didn’t seem like he intended to put bars in front of the windows, so the locks wouldn’t prevent her from getting out. It was only a matter of seconds in difference. 

She started taking bigger bites of the apple. It was deliciously juicy, fresh, and not too sweet. Then she turned on the TV and found the Netflix app where she continued to watch _Homeland._

While she watched TV, she heard him move on to the three windows in the bedroom. As she finished eating the apple, she got up to put it in the trashcan in the kitchen. As she stood up, the couch creaked and the chain of her handcuffs clanked. 

“What are you doing in there?” Dean yelled from the bedroom. Natasha couldn’t help but roll her eyes. For god’s sake, she could throw an apple core into the trash without supervision. 

She had barely reached the kitchen when Dean came storming through the door to the bedroom. “I asked you a question!” He thundered as he aggressively marched towards her. 

Today, she couldn’t take his schemes or overly controlling manner of her, so she simply held the apple core up in front of her. Dean stopped in his tracks and eyed her suspiciously. With the other hand, she opened the trashcan and demonstrating let the apple core dump into it before heading back to the couch. 

Dean hurried forward. His hand slammed into the wall in front of her to cut off her path. She skidded to a halt as she had tried to run past him when she saw him moving at the corner of her eye. 

His right hand slammed into the wall on the other side of her as well when he saw she was about to walk around him. Now she was cornered against the wall, with his strong arms and body as a cage around her. “Just because I’m giving you a free pass today doesn’t mean you can behave like that, slut. You got that?” The last three word where more of a snarl as he leaned closer and closer, making her press herself against the wall to get as far away from him as possible. His body only inches away from hers and she could feel his body heat. 

Her eyes were fixated on the floor. She felt like yelling in his face that he couldn’t treat her like this, but she knew it would backfire in her face if she dared. From the corner of her eye, she caught a movement. As she lifted her gaze, she saw his right hand was raised, ready to slap her. He wanted a verbal response. 

“Yes.” She hissed out through clenched teeth and quickly ducked under his left arm. At the next second, he grabbed her upper arm in a vise-like grip and ripped her back. She gasped when her back impacted with the wall with a loud thud. 

“You better lose that attitude right now or I might withdraw my free pass,” Dean growled at her. As she met his eyes, she for a short moment, thought she saw a flicker of black in his otherwise, green eyes. It sent a chill down her spine, but she suppressed it. 

“Fine. I’m sorry I threw an apple core into the trash without permission.” Natasha found the most unfazed expression she could and infused her tone with the proper amount of timidness as she averted his piercing eyes. His control issues apparently knew no bounds. And if a simple apology for something so insignificant was what it took for him to leave her alone for now, she had no problem doing it. She wouldn’t use her strength on the small fights with him. She would rather save her energy for her unfinished escape plan. Besides, apologizing would keep up her timid and submissive act, which in the long run would, hopefully, make him less prepared for an attack. 

“Good girl.” He mumbled reluctantly. Clearly aware that her apology wasn’t wholehearted. “Now, I’m gonna pick up some groceries. Is it enough to chain you to the couch?” His head was tilted slightly back, so he could look as much down on her as possible with hooded, dark eyes. 

“Yes, it’s enough,” Natasha answered in the same unfazed but slightly timid tone. Wonder how solid that snap hook underneath the couch was, she quickly thought. 

“You know what? Better safe than sorry.” He replied as if he had just read her thoughts. “Come on.” He demanded as he headed for the bedroom, but at least, he didn’t drag her by the chain. 

In the bedroom, she dutifully laid down on the bed and let Dean chain her to the headboard. Maybe next time he would chain her to the couch or next time again. “Wait,” She said when he was halfway to the door. He turned around and looked at her, clearly annoyed, and crossed his arms as he waited with a raised eyebrow. 

“Can I… um, can I get a digital clock?” She asked quietly. Dean pouted his lips as if he thought about it. “So I can see what time it is when I’m in here all day.” She added even lower and looked at the floor instead of him. 

“I’ll think about it.” He finally said and then left her. He left the lights on, but she heard the lock click as the door closed. 

The whole time he was gone, she did everything she could to take that overwhelming feeling of hate for the power he had over her and stuffed it in a box in her mind. Storage it, so it could provide her energy for when she found an escape plan. Bottled up hatred and frustration would serve perfectly as fuel to the mental strength it would take to endure the days before her plan was in place along with the right opportunity. Something told her, she had to be careful and choose the right moment for her escape. Otherwise, she wouldn’t stand a chance against him. He was so strong and so much taller with his 6’1” compared to her 5’5”. 

 

After she didn’t know how long, he came back and released her. It was still easy to lose track of time in the bedroom with the blackout curtains even though the ceiling light was on. Unfortunately, he hadn't bought a digital clock for her. 

Today, he demanded that she helped with making dinner. Her job was to stir the sauce and set the table. Besides a few commands from Dean, they were silent while they prepared dinner and ate. Natasha had regained her appetite. The shock from earlier was slowly retreating from her mind, making her think clearer. 

“You can watch TV if you want.” Dean simply said as he started cleaning up. 

“Okay, thank you,” Natasha replied tonelessly and walked to the couch. She was just about to ask permission for walking to the couch, but a snarky comment like that would probably be a stretch. 

It didn’t take many minutes for Dean to clean up. When he was done, he strolled to the couch and now blocked the TV. Immediately she got a bad feeling when their gazes met and she saw his lopsided smile. 

“Lie down.” He instructed her. She was sitting with her legs curled up. Involuntarily, her body tensed up by his command. With that tone and that expression, it didn’t look good for her. When she gulped, it sounded too loud. 

“Seriously? Earlier today, I promised to leave your ass alone tonight. Remember?” Dean said half-amused, half-offended. 

Yes, he did. But he was unpredictable and not really a master of keeping his promises. Though his statement made her relax as she realized that, for now, he was keeping his promise. After a few seconds of hesitation, she laid down on her back. 

“No, on your side.” He said with a cunning smile as he gestured with his hand for her to lie so she faced the TV. 

Natasha frowned but did as he said. As soon as she was in place, he deftly crawled over her and laid down behind her before she could even protest. A gasp jumped over her lips as he eased his body between the backrest and her backside. He hooked an arm around her midsection and pulled her back, so she was flush with his chest. 

When his arm released her, she immediately moved as close to the edge of the couch as possible. The few inches between them instantly calmed her racing heart and rapid breath. 

“No. Stay.” He said sweetly like he was talking to a puppy he was about to learn a trick. His arm laid around her waist and dragged her back against his body. “Stay.” He whispered in hear ear an extra time before releasing her again. 

Natasha had to fight the repulsion coursing through her. Then he pulled the beige blanket out from under her head and tucked them both in under it. 

“You can start it again.” He whispered close to her ear. She pressed play on the remote she clutched in her hand. When he had placed himself in front of the TV, she had paused it. 

Without luck, she tried to calm her heart and breath, but she had barely thought it to herself before one of Deans fingers started to run over the sensitive skin on her neck in lazy circles. Her body stiffened further and her breath stilled for a second or two. 

Closing her eyes, she swallowed thickly and reminded herself that he was playing with her. Deliberately teasing and provoking her. She used all her self-control to focus on the series instead of slapping his hand and jump up. Even though the latter was what she wanted to do the most right now. 

His finger expanded its lazy pattern to her collarbone. It was easy for him to access now where she was wearing one of his flannel shirts that were too big for her. 

His touch was so light it nearly tickled her, but in the wake of his touch, she felt a coldness linger to her skin. She clenched her teeth and ignored him the best she could. Protesting was useless. It might even make it worse to protest, actually. 

Now his finger headed for the opening of the shirt. He easily unbuttoned two of the buttons with one hand and his hand slipped under the shirt and cupped her right breast. His nose ran over her neck while his hand squeezed her breast. And this time, she couldn’t suppress the shiver running through her. A low chuckle came from Dean and she felt his breath on her skin. Once again, her body stiffened in discomfort. 

Between his thumb and index finger, he rolled her nipple and pinched it before he pulled his hand out of her shirt. She breathed a sigh of relief as his hand ran along her arm instead. It was much more bearable. Even when his hand caressed her stomach in circles was easier to endure now. 

His fingers suddenly changed course from the circling pattern and headed south. Just as his fingertips sneaked into her pants, she grabbed his wrist to stop him. 

“I’m not touching your ass.” She couldn’t pinpoint the tone in his voice, but it sounded mostly amused. He was so provoking. 

“Let go of my hand. I promise I won't rape you tonight.” There was a ring of a threat in his voice indicating that if she didn’t do as she was told, he _was_ going to do it. 

Closing her eyes, she weighed her options and then she let go of his wrist with a defeated sigh. His lips brushed over the hollow beneath her ear almost as if he said, ‘thank you.’ His fingers now dug into her panties. “Still not touching your ass.” He mocked as she wiggled uncomfortably beside him. She could almost see the arrogant smirk on his face. 

His hand dropped an inch lower under the waistband of her panties. Two inches left between his hand and her sweetest spot. Unconsciously, her body moved away from the unwanted touch, which was backward. “You’re rubbing against me,” Dean whispered clearly amused but with heavy breath. Her hips shot forth, but it was directly into his hand. It slowly moved an inch downward, which made her press her thighs hard together. Again, she pushed back to escape his warm hand, making her ass rub against his crotch. His hips pushed him against her and she instinctively moved forward. 

His fingers closed the distance to her sweetest spot. With a gasp, she retreated backward again. “Now you’re doing it again, baby.” He chuckled and rubbed against her ass. 

She felt like a pin pong ball between his hand and crotch. A low whimper flew past her lips as she pressed forward into his hand again, the lesser of two evils. His hand shot down and palmed her sex. Another whimper seeped past her lips. 

Holding her breath, she tried to prepare for whatever he was going to do with her. Several seconds passed, but his hand continued to lie still in the same position. His hand was warm against her skin in an uncomfortable way. 

Natasha felt utterly self-conscious and embarrassed. His hand was intruding so much of her personal space, the way he just kept it there was clearly a provocation, and it made her restless. She wanted to move away from his touch, but by now, she knew it would only make it worse for herself, so she accepted her fate. Dean didn’t show any intention of removing his hand or do anything to her. It just kept palming her sex. 

Constantly, she reminded herself that it could be worse than this. He violated her, but not in the same way or as severely as when he abused and raped her. She could endure this. 

After half an hour, she cursed herself for not seeing it coming. She should have seen it coming. She should have known he would find some other way to intrude her privacy and body even after giving her a ‘free pass.’ He was so fucking provoking. 

Slowly, Natasha felt her eyelids get heavy, but a part of her kept her eyes wide open. She was exhausted after the mental whirlwind that had entered her after seeing the news, but her continued discomfort caused by Dean’s hand in her panties kept her alert. 

“Give me a kiss and I’ll remove my hand.” He whispered his offer into her ear a little past 11 p.m. 

“Okay.” She agreed instantly and turned her upper body towards him. Anything to escape the discomfort he was causing her and had done for the past hours. 

He raised an eyebrow because of her sudden willingness, but then leaned the last inch forward to meet her waiting lips. 

A shudder of disgust coursed through her the instant his warm and soft lips pressed against hers. Her noticeable shudder made him moan into the kiss. She felt his tongue trying to pry her lips apart. To satisfy him, she parted her lips and granted him access after squeezing her eyes tighter together. His tongue invaded her mouth. Repositioning himself, so he was now propped up on his elbow, he indulged fully into the kiss. The hand in her panties began rubbing her. 

“No.” Her protest was muffled beyond recognition by his insisting and dominating lips and tongue, but her tone and her attempt to get free wasn’t to be mistaken. Her shoulder tried to push him back as her other hand grabbed his wrist to stop it. 

At first, he ignored her weak fighting, but then his teeth dug into her lower lip and pulled before he let go and leaned back. A second later, his hand retreated from her panties as he had promised. She jumped to her feet, pulled up her pants and panties as he had managed to push them a couple of inches down. 

As she wrapped her arms around herself as much as the chain allowed, she made the mistake of looking at him. His lips were curled up in a sly smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. The green in them was darkened, his pupils blown wide as he zeroed in on her as if she was his prey. His teeth dug into his lower lip, then his tongue ran over it before his teeth dug into it again. 

“Too bad you’re off limits tonight.” He purred and winked at her. 

“I’m going to bed.” Natasha hastily said before fleeing to the bedroom. 

“Right behind you.” She heard Dean yell from the couch. 

She kept the oversized shirt on when she crawled under the duvet without caring that it would get too hot, but she just felt the need to be covered. 

Dean walked in a couple of minutes later. “I know you’re not sleeping.” He noted dryly as he started to undress. She had laid completely still with closed eyes. Hoping he would leave her alone. 

“Goodnight, slut.” He said after lying down next to her. His hand stroked her cheek and then found the chain of her handcuffs under the covers and pulled it to the headboard where he chained her.


	6. Chapter 6

When she woke, she was covered in sweat. The bedroom was pitch black, but she could hear Dean’s heavy breath to her left. He was still asleep. 

With her legs, she kicked the duvet down to her waist and laid one of her legs on top of it to cool off. The bed creaked when Dean turned around in his sleep. In a blink of an eye, his strong arm had grabbed her waist and dragged her backside to his chest. Natasha gasped loudly in surprise. She had been sure he was asleep, but obviously, he wasn’t. 

“Mmm, you’re all hot for me.” He mumbled sleepily and let his nose run over her neck as he tucked her deeper under his duvet, closer to him. 

Her heart thumped loudly against her ribcage, her body had stiffened, and she fought to get her breath under control. His hand sneaked under the shirt and grabbed her right breast. He squeezed it a couple of times before he sighed deeply and his hand stopped moving, still cupping her breast. 

A few moments later, it became clear to her that he wasn’t going to do anything to her. She couldn’t feel a bulge poking her from behind, so she took that as a good sign. His heavy, slow breath indicated he was asleep again. Quickly, the sweat again ran from her body. The flannel shirt was way too hot combined with having a duvet over her and Dean’s body heat. 

A couple of minutes passed before she felt it was safe to try to get out of Dean’s arm. She wiggled slowly forward and his arm fell to her stomach. Halfway out of the blazing heat, Dean’s arm tightened like a snare around her waist, forcing her back against his body and under the duvet. 

For hours, she sweated. At some point, she was sure she was going to dehydrate. The flannel shirt was almost completely soaked. Her hair stuck to her forehead and neck. She couldn’t find rest when she was this uncomfortable. And feeling Dean’s hot breath on her neck was a constant reminder of her situation. Several times, she tried to escape, but Dean’s arm just clutched harder and harder onto her until she felt her bones creak and had a hard time breathing. 

Finally, Dean released her as he woke up and got out of bed. She breathed a deep sigh of relief and enjoyed the cool air over her skin as she kicked the duvet off her. 

“Wait,” She called when he was dressed and headed for the door without her. He stopped in his tracks and looked annoyed at her. “Can I please go to the bathroom?” She asked politely. She had to act impeccably if she should have any hopes of him giving her permission. 

Dean let out an exasperated snort before walking back to unchain her. “Hurry up.” He sneered. 

“Thank you.” She said timidly as she half ran to the bathroom. 

After washing her hands, she splashed some cold water on her heated face and on her neck. It felt so good to wipe the clammy moisture away. She also drank a lot of water directly from the tap. 

“Lie down,” Dean demanded when she returned to the bedroom. 

“Aren’t we having breakfast?” She asked hopefully. 

“No, I have to get going.” He snapped and pointed at the bed, gesturing for her to lie back down. “Now.” He added sternly. 

With bowed head, she did as he said, though her stomach growled. 

As he straightened up after chaining her, he turned an object on the bedside table towards her. It was a digital clock. 

“Thank you.” She instantly said as she looked at the red numbers telling her it was 6:03 a.m. With a scoff, Dean turned around and walked out of the bedroom. The lock clicked as he closed the door. 

She appreciated the clock endlessly, but then despair flushed over her like a tidal wave. How could she sink so low? It was ridiculous to be grateful for so little. It’s emphasized the helpless situation she was in. She felt tears gather at the corner of her eyes, and for a while, she let them and the desperate feelings consume her. Convinced that it was better to let it all out while no one was watching. She didn’t want to show Dean this weak side, as she was sure he would find some creative way to use it against her. 

At some point, her tear ducts felt empty. All the crying had given her a headache and she wished that she had something to drink. Which also reminded her of how hungry she was. 

It soon became clear that Dean wasn’t going to come back for lunch. She wondered when he’d be home. To make the time go by faster and to escape the hunger, she tried to sleep. It took some time, but in the end, she fell asleep. 

When she woke, she became more and more grateful for the clock. Without it, she would have been completely unaware of how long she had slept. The clock told her that she had been asleep for two and a half hours. That little control the clock gave her was enough to strengthen her spirit. Which she found pathetic. What had become of her life?

At 6 p.m. Dean returned. She heard his car in the driveway. With her ears, she followed his footsteps from he entered, walked directly to the bedroom, and unlocked the door. He looked exactly as when he had left, which was a relief. She remembered far too well when he had come back covered in blood. 

“Go take a shower. You stink.” He sneered as he released her handcuffs from the headboard. 

She clenched her teeth, but that couldn’t hold back her answer. The hunger made her fuse nonexistent. “You know, it would help if you gave me something for personal hygiene.” She knew she stank of sweat from the uncomfortable night. 

All he did was raise an eyebrow, so she continued, “For example a deodorant and a toothbrush.” She flipped her arms out in an annoyed gesture when she sat on the edge of the bed, but her arms were stopped halfway by the chain between her cuffs. She had tried to deny how disgusting she felt. She didn’t want to make it worse for herself than it already was. But factum was that her teeth were almost furry and as he so kindly had pointed out, she stank of sweat. 

It would be heavenly to wear deodorant and brush her teeth. But asking Dean for such effects just seemed like a nail in her coffin. Like she accepted being held captive. That she had accepted her fate and now simply made herself comfortable in her new situation. She didn’t accept it. She didn’t plan on staying. She just needed the right opportunity that hadn't come around yet. 

“Keeping you sure is more challenging than I had imagined. You set all these demands and what do I get in return?” His voice was low and threatening as he with crossed arms towered over her. 

“A pleasant odor.” She fought to conceal the hostility in her voice and looked at the floor as she spoke. Her ‘demands’ wasn’t unreasonable. The one that was being unreasonable (and cruel, heartless, inhuman, sadistic, and tyrannical) was him. 

“Fine. Now go take a shower, you disgusting slut.” It was clear he was far from pleased with her. He unleashed her from the handcuffs so brutally it actually hurt. 

As soon as she was released of the cuffs, she stormed past him, but then an excruciating pain emerged from her lower back to every nerve ending, making her tumble, screaming, face first to the floor by its force. Her whole body trembled as she turned her head to look at Dean. In his hand, he was holding the taser. “That’s what you get for talking back to me. Now go take that fucking shower or I’m gonna tase you again.” 

With tears in her eyes, she wobbling got to her feet. Her knees felt like jelly. Halfway to the bathroom, she almost fell again, but her hands grabbed onto the couch just in time to stabilize her. Inside the bathroom, she fell sobbing to the floor after closing the door. There wasn’t a key in the lock, but she told herself that the closed door was enough distance from him for now. 

A loud thud from the door made her flinch. “You have 10 minutes.” Dean’s harsh voice sounded from the other side of the door. 

Still sobbing she dragged herself up by the toilet and then the washing machine. She ripped the flannel shirt over her head and couldn’t care less when a button came loose and landed on the floor. She quickly discarded of her panties and turned on the water. When it was hot, she stepped under the cascades of water. She had to admit it felt good to let the water and soap rinse her body. Secretly imagining that _he_ would be washed off of her. His touch, his smell, everything. 

After washing her hair and body twice, she glided to the floor, huddling together in the corner with the water pouring over her. She wanted to stay in here forever. 

“Get out. I don’t want you to use all the hot water.” Dean snarled as he banged on the door again. 

Gathering herself as much as she could, she got up from the floor and turned off the water. From the cabinet under the sink, she took a towel and slowly dried herself. Wiping the mist off the mirror, she took a look at herself. Her cheek and forehead had changed to a more yellowish and brown color. The wound on her forehead was healing nicely. The bite marks were faded too, but they still stood out too clearly on her skin. Her eyes were red and she was pale. She looked at her wrists. The skin was wrinkly and nearly white from the padded handcuffs. Her skin was clearly deprived of air. It looked exactly as if you’d left a Band-Aid on for too long. The wounds didn’t really have a scab besides the kind of yellow solidified fluid from the wounds. But it didn’t look like it was infected. She could still feel where he had tased her, but she refrained from looking at it. 

She gathered her strength and opened the door, but gasped in surprise as she had nearly walked directly into Dean that stood in front of the door. In his left hand, he had some clothes. In his right, he had her handcuffs. He threw the clothes in her face, so she nearly dropped the towel that was wrapped around her body. 

She was about to close the bathroom door when his hand stopped it. He didn’t need to say that he wanted her to get dressed in front of him, his gesture and the expression on his face was clear. Without letting go of the towel, she got the panties and pants on. Both were black. Idly, she wondered why he had so much women’s clothes. The last piece of clothing was another of his flannel shirts. Turning her back to him, she dropped the towel and quickly got the shirt on. 

She had barely turned around when he grabbed one of her wrists so hard she winced, cuffed it, and did the same to her other wrist. 

“Sit.” He demanded and pointed at one of the chairs at the round table as he walked to the kitchen. 

To her relief, he started to prepare the dinner. By now, it felt like there was a big hole where her stomach was supposed to be. It nearly hurt as her stomach growled when the smells started to reach her nose. 

A knock on the door made both Dean and Natasha’s head whip to the small hall where the front door was. The blackout curtains were drawn, so there was no possible way to see who it was. 

Dean turned off the stove. On his path to the door, he deftly chained her to the hook under the table. “If you scream…” He warned and let the unspoken threat hang in the air. He closed the door to the hall before he opened the front door. Her ears were pricked as she tried to hear was what going on in the hall. 

 

Dean opened the door. In front of him stood two men. They were both practically dressed in hiking boots, thick jackets, gloves, hats. “What can I help you with?” He asked calmly. 

“Have you seen this woman?” One of the men handed Dean a picture. 

A picture of Natasha. 

“Her name is Natasha Dawson. She’s 25 years old and about this tall.” The man held his hand in the air indicating her height. “She’s been missing since Saturday. She’s been on the news.” He continued. 

“Sorry, haven’t seen her,” Dean said with the right amount of empathy and handed the picture back. 

 

Inside, Natasha was fighting an inner battle. There was someone outside the door. The chances of it being one of his accomplices or being someone that could help her was about 50/50. If it was one of his accomplices, she risked some sort of punishment. If it was someone who could help her, she could get her freedom. 

It now became clear to her that there were three male voices. One of them belonged to Dean. 

She had to take the chance… 

“Help! Help! I’m in here! Help me, please! I’m in here!” 

 

“Goddammit!” Dean nearly yelled as he drew the taser from his back pocket. He put it to one of the men’s cheek simultaneously with grabbing the back of the other’s neck and sent him head first into the house wall. From the closet in the hall, he found a hunting knife… 

 

Natasha heard the struggling. That had to be a good sign! That meant it wasn’t demons or whatever company he kept. It meant they were fighting to get to her. With her heart racing in her chest, she listened. She prayed that whoever was out there was strong enough to take him down. 

Then there was only silence. 

Please, please, please, please. She begged silently that Dean had been overpowered. 

Suddenly, the door got banged open. She jumped frightened and turned around only to see Dean covered in blood, holding onto the collar of the jacket of two persons. One in each hand. 

Her hands covered her mouth in horror as she saw the blood on the bodies and how it left trails on the carpet as he dragged them inside and let go of them right in front of her. 

What had he done? She couldn’t describe how terrified she felt. And it was only amplified when he turned both the bodies to their back so she could see their faces. 

She recognized them. It was Pete and Stefan from her work where she was a receptionist at a lawyer’s office. 

Pete’s throat was slit and on Stefan’s chest was a big round stain of blood. The jacket was torn in the middle of the pool of blood. Stefan had been stabbed in the heart. 

“Now see what you made me do. Do you know them?” Dean said acerbically. She couldn’t find her voice to answer him, but tears of horror started to run down her cheeks. 

“I asked you a question!” He thundered. When she didn’t respond, he deftly released her from the table, and by her neck, he dragged her to her knees on the floor. She found her voice, only to scream. 

“Do you know them!?” He yelled as he pressed her face towards the bodies. She was under an inch from Pete’s pale face. His eyes were half-open and they were lifelessly staring straight ahead of him. 

“DO YOU?” He yelled so loud it hurt her ears and she screaming again. 

“Yes. Ye-e-es…” She sobbed hysterically. By her hair, he ripped her backward. She would have fallen to her back if he didn’t still have had a hold of her hair. 

“Who are they?” Dean yelled in her face and slapped her so hard it rang through her skull before she even had a chance to answer. “I said, who are they!?” His left hand grabbed onto her shoulder and shook her violently. 

“From my work! From my work!” Natasha wailed frightened. 

“It’s your fault they’re dead! Do you get that, you fucking skank? If you had kept your fucking trap shut as I told you to, they would still be alive! It’s your fucking fault!” He yelled furiously in her face and again pressed her face down to theirs before he, by her hair, dragged her toward the bedroom. 

She screamed and sobbed. Her nails scratched his hand to get him to let go, but he didn’t. She felt how he pulled several hairs out of her scalp. 

When they reached the bed, he grabbed her upper arms so hard it left bruises and dragged her to her feet in front of him. His right hand pulled as far back as it could get and slapped her so hard she fell backward with a scream and landed on the bed. Her hands covered her hurting cheek as she bounced on the mattress. 

He crawled onto the bed, ripping her hands away from her face so he could slap her again. “I’m gonna fucking teach you a lesson, you fucking bitch!” By her shoulders, he threw her to the headboard. She screamed when her head and shoulders impacted with the steel frame. Before she could recover, he had chained her to the headboard. He stood up, and in one swift motion, he unbuckled his belt and freed it from his jeans, took the tip and buckle in his right hand and raised it. The belt hit across her thighs. The pain made her scream again and she instantly curled up with her back towards him. The next spank hit her side. The next across her ass. 

She twisted and turned to escape the rain of hits from the belt, but there was nowhere to run. She was chained and she couldn’t escape. The tears poured down her cheeks and her vocal chords were already ragged by her screams of stinging agony. 

The last three hits landed on her back, her upper arm, and the side of her thigh. Six hits in total, as she laid there chained and unable to defend herself. Dean grabbed her jaw in a brutal grip and ripped her face around to face him. “I’m not done with you yet, skank, but I have two bodies to bury and a lot of blood that needs to be cleaned up.” He hissed in her face before he turned away from her. On his way to the door, he ripped the wire to the digital clock out of the outlet so hard the clock fell to the floor. He slammed the door after him and locked it mercilessly.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember to check the cover I made for this in the summary ;-)

Natasha was left in darkness. She couldn’t stop crying. Dean, and what he was capable of, had really scared her and her skin still stung where the belt had hit her and where he had slapped her. Faintly, she heard him dragging the dead bodies out of the house and slamming the door after him. 

It was quiet for a long time and the only thing she could hear was herself crying. 

Finally, it seemed like her tear ducts were empty. Her whole body felt empty and she was left with a coldness in her chest. The only thing she could feel was how hungry she was and how her body hurt. She was sure she would have bruises after his belt and hand because she could still feel the stinging and pricking. 

It could have been two hours or eight hours by now. The fact that he had taken her clock away made her sad. Again, her sense of time was eradicated. Her stomach hurt so much because of the hunger, she had curled herself up, but it didn’t ease the pain. It was constantly clenching and growling, continuing to remind her that she needed food. 

 

Dean dragged the bodies to the small wood on his property that was only a quarter mile away from the house. With him, he had brought a shovel. When he found a good place to bury them, he was already sweaty after dragging them all the way here. 

He decided to take a break before burying them. His body cooled off as he sat with closed eyes leaned against a tree while smoking a Marlboro. But in the end, he got up and started digging. While he dug the two deep graves, he thought of a way to punish her. Right now, she was definitely in timeout, so she could think about what she’d done. 

Hours later, he had buried the bodies and covered their graves in leaves and moss, so they wouldn’t stand out on the forest floor. 

When he returned to the house, he began cleaning up the blood. 

 

She heard him come back. Though she didn’t know how long it had been. The only indicator of time was her growing hunger that incessantly made her stomach clench together, and the fading stinging from the belt. 

As soon as her ears picked up his heavy boots on the floor, her body became rigid of fear. He had said he wasn’t done with her… 

Minutes passed. Maybe half an hour and he still hadn't entered the bedroom. Instead, she heard him walk around, and after some time, she heard a machine starting. Perhaps a vacuum cleaner or a steam cleaner. 

He wasn’t coming for her yet. Slowly she started to relax. But the vacuum or steam cleaner was a reminder of what had happened. All that blood. Finally, what had happened to Pete and Stefan flushed over her and intruded her mind. She had tried to keep the thoughts and guilt at bay. The pain helped a lot but now it was just a dull thumping pain and it couldn’t keep her mind quiet. The images flew vividly through her mind. 

They were dead… and Dean was right. It was her fault. If she hadn't tried to scream for help, they would have been alive. Instead, they were dead. She wondered if the police or someone else would find a connection between her being missing and Pete and Stefan’s disappearance. 

After an excruciatingly long time, she drifted into a restless and nightmare filled sleep… 

 

There was only a faint stain left on the carpet from the blood, so Dean turned off the steam cleaner and packed it away. He was tired. It was in the middle of the night. After a quick, hot shower, he laid down on the couch to sleep. She was still in timeout. And by now, he would only get an hour or two’s sleep and he didn’t want her to interrupt that with crying or what else she was doing in there. Crowley was waiting for him in the morning, so he had to go. Which was fine because then he had a little longer to decide what her punishment should be. 

 

She woke with a gasp from a nightmare. The first thing she noticed was the darkness and that her cheeks were wet. Her breathing was rapid and shaking. The fear enveloped her and she wished that she were able to turn on the light. The darkness was choking her, keeping her fear close. Before she could stop herself, she started sobbing. The heavy darkness gave her a chilling feeling that something or someone was watching her. As if there were monsters lurking in every corner. But it was just the aftermath of the horrific nightmare. 

Dean had been after her in her dreams. He had either completely black eyes or blood red irises. She had run from him in different environments. First in a house, then in a forest, then through endlessly long halls, and then over fields. The only thing that had been consistent was that it had been night, that Dean had chased her, and that she had kept tripping over Pete and Stefan’s dead bodies. One time, she had fallen head first into a pool of Stefan’s blood, had gotten it all over her and into her mouth and nose. 

It was the worst nightmare she had ever had. 

 

It took a long time before she was able to calm down. Her hunger by now had made her nauseous. She felt tired, helpless, and powerless. She couldn’t understand why she had been alone for so long. Even though she didn’t have a clock, she was sure it was day now, meaning Dean hadn't slept with her. Either he hadn't been to bed or he had perhaps slept on the couch. 

The uncertainty was nearly making her crazy. Uncertainty of when he would get back to her. What he would do to her when he did. His threat gave her an uneasy feeling. By now, she knew that when he made a threat, he meant it. 

 

The click of the lock made her jump. She had dozed off now and then, but now she was wide-awake. The light turned on. Her head snapped towards the door where Dean was standing. The fear instantly flushed through her, nearly choking her. Her heart galloped like a horse on a racecourse and her breath neared hyperventilation in seconds. 

“I have something for you,” Dean said tonelessly. His expression was unreadable, but she thought she traced a dangerous gleam in his eyes. His hands were hidden behind his back. One horrifying scenario after the other sprinted through her mind as he approached the bed and she whimpered quietly. 

He sat down at the edge of the bed and revealed what he had been hiding behind his back. A black collar with a nametag. Dean held the nametag so she could read it. _Dean’s Little Slut_ was engraved on it. 

A part of her relaxed. If this was supposed to be her punishment, then it wasn’t anywhere near how terrible she had imagined. 

“I said I would get you a collar with a tag.” He said matter-of-factly as he put it around her neck and buckled it. “Now, how does that feel?” 

“It’s–aargh!” As soon as she had tried to speak, the collar gave her a shock, making her scream and shocked her again. The shock and surprise made her whole body twitch and she tugged in her cuffs. 

“Oh, did I forget to mention? It’s a shock collar. That’s what you get when you try and scream for help.” Dean mocked with a fiendish smirk. As he released her from the headboard, she glared at him. 

It was so demeaning. The shock hurt, but the taser hurt more. It wasn’t so much the pain she minded, it was the humiliation it was to not only wear a collar but a _shock collar_ of all. Like she was a fucking misbehaved dog. She nearly preferred another round with the belt. Nearly. At least that punishment would be over quickly. She didn’t know for how long he was going to make her wear this. 

As her hands were free, she examined the collar with her fingers. Behind her neck was a box that distributed the shock. He had probably hidden it in his hand when he showed it to her. 

“If you so much as think of taking it off, I’m gonna tase you,” Dean warned and instantly her hands fell from the collar. “Come on.” He snapped as he stood up and walked out of the bedroom. 

Dutifully and ashamed, she followed him. In the living room, her eyes flew to the clock. 8:30 p.m. She had been locked in the bedroom for over 24 hours. Again, it was close to two days since she had eaten. 

Next, her eyes dropped to the floor. The only indicator of the terrible thing that had happened here was a faded stain on the carpet. The guilt flushed over her like a tidal wave and she had to fight back the tears. 

“Get your ass over here and make yourself useful,” Dean demanded from the kitchen. He made her peel the potatoes and then she made the sauce while the potatoes boiled. Her stomach growled more than ever as the delicious smells surrounded her. But she abstained from tasting any of it. Dean would probably punish her if she did. Instead, she drank two glasses of water. She was thirsty of all the crying and hoped the water would be better than nothing to her stomach. 

As she mashed the potatoes, Dean smacked her ass, making her whine in surprise and pain. Instantly, she fell to her knees as the electricity from the collar coursed through her body. She dropped the potato masher and spilled half-mashed potatoes on the kitchen table and the floor. 

Dean stared contemptuously down at her with a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. “Clean that up.” He snapped and threw a wet cloth at her. 

Natasha huffed loudly as she felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment and anger. 

After cleaning up, she got to mash the rest of the potatoes in peace as well as set the table. But the collar felt heavy around her throat. The nametag clinked demeaning every time she moved. It was a constant reminder of the power he had over her. 

Finally, they sat down at the table. Dean filled her plate and she immediately scooped up two mouthfuls. 

“If you’re gonna eat like a dog, get down on the floor. That’s where pets eat. Maybe I’ll get you a bowl that matches that collar.” Dean told her sternly as he sent her a pointed look. 

She wanted to talk back to him, tell him that it wasn’t so odd that she ate like that when she had gotten nothing to eat for two days, _again_! But she managed to stop herself at the last second when she thought of the collar. 

She had to really restrain herself to eat slowly. But she pulled it off. Soon her stomach stopped hurting and growling. 

Natasha wanted to ask if she could have some more, but unable to speak, she simply pointed at the food and then her plate. 

“What is it?” Dean asked amused with a raised eyebrow as he clearly waited for her to speak up. “What is it you want?” 

She clenched her teeth in anger and pointed very clearly on the food and then her plate. 

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” Dean mocked with the widest, cruelest smirk. 

Natasha clenched her teeth so hard, her jaw started to hurt, but then decided to stand up and take seconds herself. 

Dean stood up too and grabbed her wrist right before it reached the knife to cut herself another slice of meatloaf. “What do you think you’re doing? You think there’s self-service in this house?” His voice had a ring of a threat. 

“Fuck y–” She sneered but her voice broke in a scream as the electric current passed through her, making her drop the plate on the table. Luckily, it didn’t break. 

Dean hadn't let go of her wrist and now tightened his grip. “I know what you were about to say, slut. No seconds for you.” He snarled as he yanked her forward by her wrist and then pushed her so she fell back on her ass on the chair. 

With tears in her eyes, she glared furiously and wronged at him. Her lips were a pale disapproving line as she pressed them together to stop her lower lip from quivering. He was _so mean_ to her!

“Now, help me clean up instead of looking at me like I just stole your lunch money,” Dean commanded. Against her will, she got up to help him. 

 

“Give me a goodnight kiss,” Dean demanded when they were in bed. She eyed him suspiciously to find any indicator that would tell her if there would follow more after the kiss. It didn’t seem like it, but her body still didn’t relax as she leaned forward. Dean’s soft lips pressed against hers, and he started moaning as his left hand sneaked behind her neck and grabbed her hair to keep her lips sealed to his. His lips worked greedily against hers, but to her surprise, he didn’t try to pry her lips apart. 

Finally, his lips released hers, but he kept them under an inch from hers, still with a tight grip on her hair. “I would fuck your ass if I wasn’t so tired. Which is your fault by the way. But then I’ll have more to give _tomorrow_.” His voice started out in a light tone, but the threat unveiled through the last sentence. 

She stopped the gasp building in her throat. 

He released her hair, crawled under his duvet, and turned off the light as he whispered, “Goodnight, slut.”

His threat kept her awake for a long time… 

 

A slap on her cheek woke her. A surprised squeal jumped from her lips, and then another as the electric current ripped through her body. Her back arched in pain and left her panting with pain and shock. 

“Rise and shine, slut,” Dean grumbled as he released her. He was already fully dressed. She must have slept through him getting up and dressed. Which puzzled her. 

He threw some clean clothes in her face and waited impatiently with a tapping foot as she got dressed. 

During breakfast, he, to her relief, left her alone. The fact that he allowed her breakfast made her grateful, but at the next second, she hated herself and him for making her feel that way. A meal shouldn’t be a privilege granted when Dean sees fit. 

The whole time, Natasha kept her gaze lowered. Only looking at her bowl of cereal and her cup of tea. 

When they were both done, she was shooed back to the bedroom and chained. 

Today, she didn’t mind being locked up and alone. She feared when he would be back and that made the time go too fast in her opinion. 

_Then I’ll have more to give tomorrow._ His words kept haunting her the entire day, and too soon, she heard his car in the driveway. 

When the door to the bedroom opened and the lights turned on, her body was rigid and shaking with fear for what he might do. But he only unchained her. 

The clock in the living room told her it was later than she had expected. 7:55 p.m. Where had the time gone today? She thought anxiously. 

While preparing dinner and eating it, she used the same tactic as this morning. Did everything to avoid looking at him, only concentrating on her food. 

 

After cleaning up, she was again shooed into the bedroom. Dean demanded her to undress as he wanted to go to bed early. 

His words from last night rang louder and louder in her head. She undressed as slowly as she could. From the corner of her eye, she tracked every one of his movements, just waiting for the attack she knew would come sooner or later. 

She crawled under the duvet, tucked it tightly around her body as she with stilled breath got more anxious by the second. When he made a threat, he followed through. 

Her teeth were clenched so hard her jaw hurt when Dean laid down next to her. Propped up on his elbow, resting his cheek in his palm, his left hand stroked her cheek. 

Her heart jumped up into her throat and clutched harder onto the duvet like it was a shield that could protect her. 

“Have you learned your lesson?” Dean asked softly. His hand moved down to her throat where his index finger slid under the collar and pulled a little in it. Frantically, she nodded and swallowed loudly. 

“So you’ve learned that in this house you don’t scream for help?” He asked in the same dangerously sweet tone. Again, she nodded. 

“Will you scream for help again?” His hand moved up and tucked her hair behind her ear. She shook her head. Still, her eyes were fixated at the ceiling as they have been ever since she laid down. 

“Good.” He praised her. His hand was again stroking her cheek. “Do you think you’ve deserved to get that collar off?”

For the first time today, she looked at him and nodded hectically. There was a small hope in her eyes at the sight of escaping this embarrassing and demeaning punishment. 

With one hand, he opened the buckle, took it off her, and placed it on the bedside table. 

“Thank you.” She whispered. Her voice felt a little raw after not speaking a single word for so long. 

“You’re welcome,” Dean said to her surprise. “You’ve been good. Actually…” He paused as he lifted her duvet and scooted closer to her. He did it too easily, considering how hard she clutched onto the duvet. 

“No…” She whispered frightened and tried to move away, but Dean’s arm locked around her waist. His right hand grabbed the chain of her handcuffs to control her as he with his knee spread her legs and laid down on top of her. 

“I think you’ve deserved to be fucked in your cunt tonight. Yeah, I’m gonna leave your ass alone, that’s how good you’ve been.” He spoke in a soft but cunning tone. 

Natasha whimpered quietly as she weakly struggled against him. A part of her was relieved by his words, but another part of her screamed that he was still going to rape her. 

Defeated, she convinced herself that this wasn’t the worst thing he could do. But even though she had accepted it, she couldn’t completely stop fighting against him. It was like a survival instinct. 

“Though, I don’t think you’ve been good enough to deserve foreplay.” He smiled demeaning as he rubbed against her. She could feel his breath on her lips and she shuddered in disgust. 

As he with one hand pulled down her panties, his other hand held onto her chain. Then he got his own boxers off. 

Natasha had turned her head to the side, away from him. She couldn’t stand looking at him. “Please… I don’t want to. No, please don’t do this. Please…” She begged in a frail voice. Unable to help herself. 

She couldn’t make herself fight more than that, though she had such a strong urge to. But she knew what he was capable of now… 

Dean spat in his hand and wiped it between her legs. She winced as she felt his fingers probing around down there. “Would you rather want me to fuck your ass?” He asked in a firm voice. The tears started gathering in her eyes, but then she shook her head. 

Dean’s hand moved from the chain to the back of her neck where he grabbed a fistful of hair and forced her to look at him. “What do I want when I ask a question?” He sneered. “Hmm?” He inquired and yanked her head back into a painful position. 

“A verbal response.” Natasha helplessly cried out. 

“That’s right.” His other hand moved from between her legs to grab her jaw. “So what would your response be?” He demanded to know as his grip tightened further on her. 

“No.” She whispered. She felt so defeated. He would stop at nothing to keep her here and rape and abuse her as he pleased. And she could do nothing. That realization was starting to tear her apart, piece-by-piece from the inside out. 

“Good.” It was clear he wasn’t completely satisfied with her, but it seemed like he couldn’t hold out any longer as he attacked her lips greedily and then brutally hammered his whole length into her folds. She whined into the kiss as it hurt. Not as bad, as if he had entered her behind, but it still hurt. 

“Oh, fuck yes!” He ripped his lips from hers and he started thrusting harshly into her. It was too long since he had been inside her, though her cunt didn’t give him the tightness he craved, it was better than nothing. And to be able to just thrust as hard as he wanted into her from the beginning was a relief in itself compared to her ass where he had to be careful. 

For every thrust, she whimpered. One tear brimmed over in her eyes, then two, then three… With her hands and forearms on his chest, she tried to keep him at a distance, but every thrust rippled up through his spine, sending his whole body forward and pulled her with him. 

His hand was still buried in her hair to make sure she kept looking at him, but her eyes were squeezed shut. 

Dean roughly sealed his lips to hers again. Because of her whimpers, it was easy for his tongue to gain access and dominate the kiss. His lustful grunts drowned her soft crying. 

When he tore his lips from hers, he moved down to her neck where he started kissing, sucking, and nipping her sensitive skin. His free hand grabbed underneath her thigh and lifted it, giving him a better angle and intensified his raw grunts. But this new angle made him bang against her cervical, making a pain shoot through her lower abdomen for every advance into her. 

“Don’t you like it, baby?” He spoke directly into her ear. His breath was already panting. A whimper was her only response. “Don’t you like getting fucked in your little whore cunt?” He sneered derisively. 

“Mhn–mhn.” She shook her head as much as his grip on her hair allowed. 

Suddenly, he stopped his brutal thrusting and held still deep inside her. “You know what? Fucking your cunt isn’t super good for me either. But you’ve been a good little slut today and I thought I would reward you by leaving your ass alone. So if you don’t want me to flip you over and knock myself out in your ass you better fucking start to appreciate it real soon.” Dean sneered balefully. 

She dared to meet his cold gaze with tearful eyes. She swallowed loudly, but a small sob escaped her. 

“Start moaning and show me how much you like having a dick in your filthy cunt.” He demanded with a slap. The slap was much more vibrant because he still had a hold in her brown hair. 

“Moan!” He growled and started thrusting as viciously into her as before. But the only thing leaving her lips were loud whimpers. 

Dean pushed his index and middle finger into her mouth to the back of her throat, making her gag. After withdrawing them, he headed straight for her ass and pushed his index finger into her second hole. The sudden intrusion made her back arch to escape it. 

“Next is my dick if you don’t soon do as I say!” He threatened and licked her from her jawline all the way up to her temple. A shudder rippled through her and she threw her head back and cried out loud for every hard and deep thrust into her. 

“Oh, yes, that’s more like it,” Dean grunted lustfully. Keeping his finger in her ass for a few more moments to see if she continued to do as he demanded and she did. Natasha nearly conjured up a real moan of relief when his finger left her insides. 

“You sound like a porn star.” He mocked in her ear. She felt how her cheeks flushed with shame by his words. 

“Oh, yes. Moan for me. Moan for me, you filthy whore. You like my dick? Of course, you do. You’re practically screaming for it. Can’t say that I’m screaming for your cunt, though. It’s so loose. Which really takes a lot because my dick is huge. Your ass will agree with that, baby. It would be better to jack off than fucking your cunt, but you know you want it. Yes, you do. Listen to how I make you scream. You’re like a horny little bitch in heat. If I weren’t fucking you, you’d be humping my leg. God, you’re a fucking slut. You’d do anything for a dick like mine. Oh, fuck yes. Scream for me, you dirty whore. Beg me to take you. I’m gonna fuck you senseless.” She tried to shut out his voice and lustful outbursts as he humiliated and talked down to her, but it was impossible. His voice was piercing and seemed to be able to reach her and get under her skin no matter what. 

It felt like he kept going forever. Her desperate imitations of moans grew more and more high-pitched and raw, as her vocal chords were more and more strained. At some point, his words had actually made her feel exactly as if she was in a porn movie. 

“Fucking hell, this is dragging out.” Dean sighed as he finally held still, giving her a short break. They were both covered in sweat and panting. Dean from lust and exertion. Natasha from screaming in pretend lust to keep him away from her ass and trying to keep him just a few inches away with her hands and arms to avoid having his hot breath hitting her face. 

“Is that sweat or tears, baby?” He mocked as he licked her cheek. She couldn’t suppress the shudder rippling through her. Another one coursed through her when he wiped the sweat off his forehead on her cheek. Now where he held still, she could feel how profoundly it pounded between her legs. 

“Baby, we gotta find some way to speed this up. It’s already been an hour.” Dean smirked provokingly. “Let’s face it, your cunt is just too loose.” He said with a shrug. 

Natasha felt the vomit rising in her throat and her cheeks burned with shame. He said it had already been an hour, to her, it felt like three. She was exhausted and just wanted it to be over with. 

“Maybe this will help.” He pondered and the next second his palm impacted with her cheek. Jerking her head to the side, causing his hand in her hair to rip out several hairs. The shock was clearly painted on her face as she cried out in pain. 

“Oh yeah, this will definitely help.” He said full of lust and slapped her again before he started thrusting roughly into her again. 

At the third slap, several tears left her eyes and she cried out in pain as his hit radiated through her skull. Both his hands grabbed her hair and yanked her head back to give him access to her neck where his teeth sunk into her flesh as he was thrusting into her in a furious pace. 

His teeth only let go to move down an inch and bit her again. Her sensitive skin muffling his animalistic grunts. Dean bit her so hard, her whole body twitched underneath him and she screamed out her pain. Doing everything in her power to escape, but his body was like a cage around her, still with a wise-like grip on her hair. 

He bit a trail down her neck to her shoulder and then continued over her collarbone and breasts. Her hands banged without a stop at his vast chest, but he barely noticed. Out of desperation, her nails dug into his chest. Dean’s head snapped up and slapped her two times in a row before he continued to bite her soft breasts, grunting more savagely. 

Now the tears streaked continuously down her cheeks and she sobbed in between her screams that were forced over her lips every time he bit her as hard as he could. 

Dean’s teeth released her skin and exclaimed, “Shit, I’m close now.” He could feel the well-known built up and tickle in his lower abdomen. Felt how the blood pounded through his member that nearly felt raw by the prolonging of this. 

By his words, something dawned on Natasha. She hadn't got her birth control since the day she met him. She had been so caught up in her little bubble of personal hell, that such ‘normal everyday things’ hadn't crossed her mind. “I haven’t gotten my birth control pills!” She cried panicky. 

“What do you want me to do? You want me to pull out? I’m a fucking demon, what did you expect? I do whatever the fuck I want with you!” His head snapped up to glare at her with narrowed eyes as he scornfully sneered at her. “And wearing a condom is off the table. I hate condoms!” He added in between his savage grunts and rapidly panting breath. 

“Please stop! Please! I haven’t gotten my birth control! Stop! Just stop…” Natasha sobbed and fought to throw him off, but he was too strong and too heavy. She was trapped underneath him. “I have _not_ gotten my birth control!” She screamed desperately.

“Oh really?” He said slowly in a cunning tone and tilted his head. He had stopped his vicious thrusting into her. 

She felt raw and skinless down there. For a while, it had felt more like sandpaper going in and out of her than a dick. Or his dick covered in sandpaper. Probably because the spit he had wiped down there was gone a long time ago and she hadn't produced a single drop of wetness herself. 

“Are you afraid I’m gonna knock you up, sweetheart?” He asked in an overly sweet tone. Definitely a red flag! 

Tearfully, she nodded. 

“Don’t you wanna get knocked up?” He leaned closer and whispered against her lips in a sensual tone. 

“No! no…” She frantically shook her head. The fear was clear in her widened eyes. 

A smirk slowly spread across his face. “You just gave me the best idea ever, sweetheart.” Excitedly, his teeth dug into his lower lip before his tongue traced over it. His grip on her hair tightened to lift her head an inch, so he was able to tilt his head a little back to look down on her, but keep her lips close to his as he spoke, “Well, I think I’m gonna knock you up solemnly because you don’t want to. Yeah, you like that? You wanna get knocked up by the big bad demon?” His tone was a mix between taunting and amusement. A smirk still played at the edges of his lips. 

Unable to get a single word over her lips because of the lump in her throat, she only gulped loudly by his words. Her lower lip quivered intensely. 

“I’m gonna knock you up.” He said sternly in a cold and threatening voice filled with determination. 

“No… no, please…” Her voice was so fragile and low he barely heard her. 

“Yes!” He sneered and started moving again. Thrusting hard, fast, and mercilessly into her, making whimpers and cries leave her almost unwillingly. 

“Yeah, I’m gonna plant my seed inside you. You’ll have a part of me growing inside of you. Every time you look down on your belly, you’ll think of me. A part of me will be inside you. You’ll be disgusted with yourself and even more when you start to get fat. And when it’s born, you’ll never be able to look at it without thinking of me. That child will be a constant reminder of me. Of where I’ve been, that you’ve had me inside of you. You’ll never forget me. You’ll hate it. Or maybe I should snap its neck right after its born just to put you through all this _for nothing._ For no reason at all beside you hurting. How does that sound?” He taunted cruelly. His lips still close to hers so she could feel his hot breath for every word. Lustful grunts started to fly past his lips in between each sentence.

“Oh, fuck yes. I’m gonna make you a pregnant whore. I am so gonna knock you up when I come deep inside your cunt.” He kept mocking her while she louder and louder cried and sobbed. 

“No! No, please. Stop. Please just stop! I don’t want this…” She whined helplessly. 

“Who cares what you want? I’m gonna make your life a living hell! You’re my little rape-doll, do you get that? You’re mine! I own you! You’re my property!” He yelled furiously in her face. 

He upped his tempo into her though she thought it was impossible. Savagely chasing his release inside her while a string of animalistic grunts got pushed through his clenched teeth. 

“I’m gonna come in your cunt! I’m fucking gonna come in your cunt and knock you up, you filthy slut!” He hissed desperately as his long-awaited climax finally rushed through him, but disappointingly fast left him again. It only took two hard and brutal thrust before he had emptied himself completely into her. 

Panting and soaked in sweat, he let himself collapse on top of her. Resting all his weight on her. He was exhausted. It wasn’t often he kept going for so long without a blue pill. 

Natasha shuddered in disgust, as his sweaty and heated body was flush with hers. His weight strained her already panting, sobbing breath. 

“Fuck, that was a lousy orgasm. Your cunt really isn’t very good.” He sighed a little annoyed and rolled off her. 

The second he was off her, she grabbed the duvet and hid under it. Pulled her legs up under her and curled up like a ball in a fetal position while she sobbed inconsolably. She felt his load beginning to run out of her, so she took a corner of the duvet between her legs to wipe it away. Nausea rose in her throat, that’s how disgusted she was. 

“Quit your crying. It's not that bad.” Dean snapped, but the tiredness was easy to trace in his voice. 

She buried her face deeper in the pillow. His chest touched her shoulder, making a scream jump over her lips. Convinced that he would violate her once again. 

“God, fucking relax and give me your hands!” Dean snarled as he sat up on his knees and yanked her hands free from the duvet and over her head so he could chain her. Grabbing a fistful of her hair, he yanked her head back from the bowed position under her arms. “You wanna hear a secret?” He whispered provoking in her ear. Fruitlessly, she tried to free herself from his grip.

“That wasn’t the first time I came in your cunt.” His words made her sobbing quiet down for a moment. What he said confused her. 

“Yeah, that’s right. Remember when I knocked you unconscious? I fucked your ass and your cunt while you were out and I came in your cunt. Oh, yes, I did. And it was the most boring orgasm of my life.” He snickered as he let her go and threw himself on his back with another deep sigh. 

“Goodnight, slut.” He clapped her on top on the duvet right on her ass as her back was turned towards him. It made her move as far away from him as her cuffs allowed her. 

Natasha cried her heart out until she felt completely empty and hollow inside. All she could was staring blankly ahead of herself into the darkness as she rocked softly from side to side. 

Dean had snored lightly for a while, but without the clock, she didn’t know for how long she had been awake. The pounding pain had decreased to a profound soreness and stinging between her legs. 

She didn’t want to be pregnant. Right now, it seemed like it was the worst thing that could happen. He was right, she would be endlessly disgusted with herself if she had a part of him growing inside of her. She wouldn’t be able to handle it. She couldn’t handle it. It couldn’t happen!

How long had it been since she took her last birth control? Searching her mind for answers, something suddenly dawned on her. You could still be protected after forgetting a couple of pills. And didn’t she read somewhere that after being on the pill for some time it could take up to a year or two to get pregnant afterward? 

She tried to remember where she had read it, but the more she thought about it, the more she was convinced that she was right! And she didn’t plan on staying here for a year. She just needed the right opportunity to escape. She had, after all, only missed a week of pills, tops! 

That thought and her conviction consoled her. 

And besides, could demons even get offspring? She tried to remember if she read something about it in the bible. Angels could get offspring. They could mate with humans. Their children were called Nephilim’s. But she couldn’t remember anything about demon offspring. 

When she fell asleep, she was much calmer. She was convinced that there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that she would be pregnant after this.


	8. Desperate For Freedom

Natasha was horrified when she looked herself in the mirror the next day. All the bite marks, her bruised cheek, and the lines from the belt though the latter had started to fade to a sickening greenish and yellowish. 

After breakfast, she was locked in the bedroom again. The day passed once again as slowly as always. Dean hadn’t plugged her clock in yet and she didn’t dare to ask. Though she missed it, even after the short time she was allowed to have it. 

At night, Dean demanded that she helped in the kitchen. She had to slice the vegetables for the wok Dean was planning on making. 

“What’s your name again?” Dean asked as he was frying the onions and garlic in the wok pan. “N… Nadia?” He tried guessing with unsure narrowed eyes. 

“Natasha.” She snarled offended. He couldn’t remember her name? Was this really what she was to him? Just one of his toys? 

“I like Nadia better.” Dean simply stated with a shrug. Unaffected by her tone. 

The insult boiled in her. If he thought he could change her name just because _he liked the other one better,_ he was wrong. She wouldn’t let him depersonalize her completely. Her hands shook with anger and she had to clench her teeth to hold a hysteric scream back. Then she looked down at her shaking hands. 

Knife. Big knife in her hand. 

She stopped trying to rein in her anger and let it loose. With a grunt, she buried the blade in his shoulder. 

Dean fell to his knees with a groan, surprised by the sudden attack. But his arms latched onto the kitchen table. The blood already spread down his back, slowly changing the color of his green shirt. His head whipped around and with black eyes, he glared at Natasha with a growl. Before he could get to his feet, she pulled the knife out of his shoulder and stabbed Dean in his throat, making him fall sideways to the floor with another furious growl of pain. Now the blood oozed from the new wound and dripped onto the floor. 

Her arms flew over the table, knocking everything down on top of Dean. The cutting board, the vegetables, the hot pan, kicked his already wounded shoulder and then ran. 

She grabbed a chair from the dining table on her way to the window and hammered the chair into it. She would never get through the door, the window was her only chance. Shattered glass stood in a cascade around her. Tumbling to the couch, she grabbed the blanket, put it over the remaining shards, and crawled out. 

She ran to the left, the opposite direction of the driveway. She remembered how long it was. Would he shoot her? She thought panicky. She searched her mind, trying to remember if she had ever seen a gun in the house. She hadn't, but something told her that he might try to shoot her. Maybe in her leg, so she couldn’t run. She had to get away from the open fields. 

As she rounded the corner of the house, she saw a forest a quarter mile ahead. She ran as fast as her legs could carry her while her eyes raked the surroundings to spot a house or a farm in the distance. She remembered him saying there was nothing for miles around, but she couldn’t help herself from searching for her rescue. But there was nothing besides the small forest ahead of her. The panic throbbing wildly through her, but hope sprouted in her chest. 

He would heal fast! She didn’t know how fast he could recover from her attack, but she hoped she would have enough for a head start. 

Don’t look back! Don’t look back! She screamed to herself. If she didn’t keep her attention to the ground in front of her, she would fall. She was out, but she wasn’t free from him yet! She would have to get farther away to find safety!

Her lungs burned as she pushed herself and it felt like her heart was about to gallop out of her chest. “Help! Help! Please! Someone help me!” She screamed at the top of her lungs. 

She cursed the handcuffs, as she was sure she would have been able to run faster without the restrictions of the chain, but there was nothing to do about that now, she just had to keep going. Tears of panic left her eyes. 

She had nearly reached the forest now. Her body was already damp and her legs permeated from the full-bore panic run for her life. 

Now she couldn’t fight the urge to look behind her. She had to know if he was pursuing her. She turned her head and a scream of fright jumped from her lips as Dean was only twenty yards behind her with an absolutely maniacal expression that was intensified by the blood covering him. Her body had jolted in shock as well, making her loose her footing and tumbled forward. Bracing herself with her arms stretched out in front of her, she cut her right palm on a sharp stone and then rolled into the first tree at the outskirt of the forest. 

Screaming of panic, she half-crawl, half-staggered to her feet and kept running in between the trees, but she had only crossed ten yards when she was tackled from behind and plummet back down to the ground with Dean groaning on top of her. 

Her fingers clawed in the dirt as she tried crawling forward, screaming hysterically, “No! Let me go! No! Get off me!” 

With a grunt, Dean grabbed her midsection, lifted her, and threw her over his shoulder. His right arm locked her thighs to his chest and started walking back to the house. 

“No! No!” Natasha screamed as she banged on his back with her fists and kicked him as much as she could. The hope in her chest grew smaller and smaller, but she couldn’t give up! She had been so close! Now, she let the anger rule over her, instead of getting absorbed in her panic and fear as she hammered her elbow into his spine, but he barely noticed and that pissed her off. Screaming furiously, she hammered her elbow into the back of his head. 

Dean stopped in his tracks, growled like a caveman, and then swung her into one of the trees. The tree bark scraped her scalp and she screamed in anger and pain. Then he kept on walking like nothing had happened. 

When they were at a safe distance from the trees, she started banging on his back and kicking his chest again leaving stains of mud and blood on his already messed up shirt. “Put me down! Put me down! Put! Me! Down! NOW!” She hollered at him. 

“Shut up!” He grumbled as he gave her an open palm slap on her ass that stung so much it made her cry out. 

“No! Don’t take me back there! No!” The fear was starting to shine through in her voice. But before she knew it, Dean walked through the door, still with Natasha slung over his shoulder. 

He grabbed her waist and threw her to the floor. A yelped flew past her lips as her ass and tailbone hurt and her back arched in pain, filling her eyes with tears. Her anger was about to be used up and the fear and panic got a deeper and deeper hold on her. She had been so close, but now she was scared to death of the consequences of her attempted escape. 

“Where the fuck did you think you were going? Huh?” Dean thundered. His green eyes were darkened with rage. 

With a sob, she crawled backward as she felt his temper radiate towards her like a cold gush of wind. “Please… no… please…” She begged terrified of what he might do to her while she shook her head frantically to try to deny it. Never had she seen him this angry with her. It had been violent enough when she screamed for help, now she had actively tried to escape and she couldn’t comprehend the extent of her hopeless situation. 

“Answer the fucking question!” Dean yelled. He took a step towards her and was towering threateningly over her, covered in blood and dirt, as she laid there on the floor. 

“Home…” Natasha sniveled almost inaudibly. “I wanna go home. Please let me go.” She whispered defeated without hope. 

“Home?” He thundered spitefully. He began unbuckling his belt and pulled it out of the loops in his jeans. Terrified, she thought he was gonna rape her right then and there. “This is your fucking home! You’re not going anywhere! You _belong_ to _me_!” He came closer for every sentence and started bending over her with the belt dangling from his right hand. Whimpering, afraid if he was gonna hit her, she crawled backward faster and faster until the back of her head bumped into the couch and she pressed her back against it to get as far away from him as possible. Her hands were raised, ready to try to shield her from his next move. 

“Look at the fucking mess you’ve made!” He pointed towards the broken window. “Who’s gonna pay for that? I am! Do you get that?” He latched onto her forearm and dragged her like a rag doll toward the bedroom while she screamed terrified as she tried to find the foothold to resist her fate in the bedroom. 

“No, please! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please don’t hurt me! Please…” She sobbed with eyes wide of fright. 

“I’m gonna make you pay for what you did,” Dean grumbled ominously as he dragged away with her. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he tried to drag her onto the bed as well, but with her feet on the side of the bed, she managed to stay on the floor as he tugged at her. 

“Come here!” He growled through clenched teeth and pulled so hard on her arm she could feel it in her shoulder and she tumbled onto his lap. Quickly, Dean got her positioned so she was lying on her stomach across his thighs with her upper body on the bed. His arms held her down, but then he grabbed her hair and pulled her head back until it hurt. “You’ve been a bad girl and now I’m gonna spank you. And you’re gonna count for me! Understood!” He yelled the last two sentence to her. “Is that understood!?” He barked loudly at her. 

“Ye-e-es…” She sobbed helplessly. Her cheeks were already burning with the humiliation. He had thrown her over his knee like she was a misbehaved child! 

He let go of her hair only to rip her pants and panties down to her thighs. His left arm pressed down on her back to keep her down as he raised his right hand. 

She jolted when his palm impacted with her uncovered ass. With a whimper, she said, “One.” Too afraid of not obeying him. She could already feel the red handprint on her behind. 

The next slap fell promptly right on the same spot. Her skin already prickled. “Two.” She sobbed full of shame. It wasn’t the worst pain she had imagined he would cause her, but the degrading and demeaning of this exceeded what she had expected. Pain was one thing, but treating her like she was beneath him was a whole other story. 

The third strike made her inhale sharply before bursting out with, “Three.” 

The fourth was harder than the previous one and she let out a cry of pain that continued into, “… four!” 

How many times was he gonna slap her? Her skin already felt tender, sensitive, and definitely red. A couple of tears had already left her eyes. 

“Five!” She cried out as Dean let out a grunt at the next slap. “Six!” Natasha’s whole body twitched before she cried, “Seven!” In a high-pitch. The sensitive skin on her ass was prickling and hurting from his many slaps. 

“Eight!” She whimpered and felt the pain spread through her, amplified by the humiliating situation. “Nine!” She burst out as she threw her head back and inhaled sharply. 

“Ten!” She sobbed as his palm landed on the same spot as the past nine slaps. This time, the next hit didn’t fall on her right away as the others, and for a short moment, Natasha thought her punishment were over. But at the next second, she screamed out at the next hit as she felt the leather from his belt impact harshly with her already tender skin. 

“Eleven!” She panted heavily in shock. The belt bit her skin again. It felt so much worse than last time he had attacked her with the belt because her skin was already so sore. “Twelve!” She yelled with tears streaming down her red cheeks with renewed force. 

The leather whipped her heated skin six more times and she hysterically and heartbrokenly screamed, “Twenty!” By now, she was twisting and wiggling to escape him. He had beaten her ass black and blue. She could nearly feel how her skin swelled in lines across her ass from the belt. It hurt so much. She felt sore and raw like minced meat. 

Sobbing and heavily panting, she waited for the next hit, but it didn’t come. She breathed a sigh of relief. Now the pain was greater than the humiliation and shame she felt. Her face and ass beamed crimson as if it was a competition. 

One weak sob after the other got pushed pathetically over her lips as she grabbed the duvet and tried to drag herself away from Dean. “Oh, we’re not done here yet, sweetie.” He grumbled with an underlying amusement as he grabbed her waist and stood up simultaneously with throwing her onto the middle of the bed. 

Natasha yelped as she bounced on the mattress and at the next second, he had crawled onto the bed and grabbed her waist. 

“Get on your hands and knees,” Dean demanded harshly as he lifted her hips and ass in the air. Forcing her to be on her knees while her shoulders and chest were still on the bed. 

“No-o-o…” She sobbed helplessly but was afraid to do anything other than he was saying, so she lifted her upper body from the mattress, propped up on her hands. Behind her, she heard his zipper come undone. “No, please… I’ll be good! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’ll be good! I promise!” She wailed unable to brace for his assault in any way. With her pants and panties down to her thighs, she was exposed to him. 

She heard him spit and at the next moment, she felt his spit hit between her legs. “No, please… I beg you! I’ve learned my lesson! I won’t do it again! Please, don’t do this! Dean, please…” She wept powerlessly. 

With a grunt, his long and hard member hammered into her cunt. She cried out, but a part of her was relieved that it wasn’t her ass he was intruding. She yelped as he pulled back and she felt his hips smack against the sore and tender skin on her ass. The fingers of his left hand dug into the flesh on her hip so hard, she felt his short fingernails penetrate her skin. His right hand grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head back so far, her breathing became strained and then started thrusting maliciously and barbarously into her. 

She screamed so loud her vocal chords hurt as his hips kept smacking against her hurting skin, his hand buried in her hair ripped out several hairs for every thrust, and his grip on her hip was bruising. He grunted savagely for every time he hammered into her. There was something sadistic and barbaric over the way he took her. He didn’t even humiliate or taunt her with his ongoing monologs as he used to and somehow that scared her even more. 

Soon his furious pace into her forced her hips closer to the mattress until she was lying flat on the bed with him panting and grunting like a wild animal on top of her, still with a wise-like hold on her. His hips and stomach rasped against her raw and bruised butt cheeks and everything hurt so much she could hardly breathe or even scream a plea for him to stop. The smell of sweat and blood filled her nose when he was still close. 

“I am so fucking pissed with you right now, you fucking piece of trash!” He growlingly pushed out each word through his clenched teeth. From the corner of her eye, she got a glimpse of him. And she regretted it deeply. His expression was wild with an unbound rage she had never seen before and she screamed louder while sobbing hysterically. 

His growls reached a new level of savageness as he came inside her. Just as he had given her the last thrust to empty himself, he pulled back and let her hair and hip go with a demeaning push. As he stood up, he grabbed her ankle and yanked her to the floor. Her chin hit the edge of the bed so hard her teeth clattered. His hand wrapped around her throat and dragged her to her knees. Natasha coughed wheezily as his hand pressed on her trachea. With her hair, he wiped off his dick covered in his load and pushed her to the floor so he could close his jeans. 

She braced herself from the floor with her hands. The wound in her hand from the sharp stone sprung open and started bleeding. Shakily and vulnerable, she pulled her pants and panties up, but the fabric scraped against her aching behind and she crawled towards the door, away from him. 

“Yeah, that’s right.” With his shin, he pushed her side so hard she tumbled into the doorframe. “Get in there and clean up the mess you’ve made!” He berated. 

When she was through the doorway, he flounced past her. “Get over here!” He shouted from the kitchen. Still wailing, she crawled into the kitchen, as she was sure she wouldn’t be able to stand up after his abuse. 

When she reached the kitchen, there was a bucket with soapy water and a sponge in front of her. 

“Clean it up.” Dean snapped and threw the wrung up sponge in front of her. She took it and started mobbing up the blood and the half-cooked food from the floor. 

Her unrestrained and loud sobbing had quiet down to a frail sniveling crying when she was done in the kitchen and then, by Dean’s command, moved on to pick up the big shards of glass from the carpet. She cut her fingers several times. When the biggest shards were put in the trash, she vacuumed. Dean had put a piece of cardboard over the window to shield from the wind and cold. 

When she was done, Dean’s temper had cooled, but he still scowled at her and his expression was as if it had been carved in stone as he ordered her back to the bedroom where he chained her and left. 

Natasha had to sleep on her stomach even though it put her arms in an awkward position, but her ass just ached so much…


	9. Chapter 9

Dean didn’t sleep with her that night. She knew because she was awake constantly, unable to find a comfortable position and find rest. Her behind felt skinned and burning. She hardly felt her stomach growl and painfully clench around itself at the lack of food. 

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw how furious Dean had been last night. And it scared her. 

 

She had dozed off, but the sound of the lock clicking and the door opening made her jump ten inches from the bed with a gasp. Her head whipped to the side just as the lights turned on and she saw Dean standing in the doorway. Instantly her body trembled at the sight of him. Fear grabbed her tight and she couldn’t breathe. What if he wasn’t done punishing her? One scenario after the other with horrible things he could do to her flickered through her mind. 

“No… No, Dean, please…” Natasha began whimpering as he approached the bed with a stern but unreadable expression. Under his left arm, he had a box. 

“Easy,” Dean hushed even though there was an edge to his tone. Natasha still backed up on the bed as far as the cuffs allowed her. “I’m not gonna hurt you unless you hurt me again.” He said firmly. 

It took a couple of seconds before the meaning of his words settled in her. Her galloping heart slowed a bit along with her erratic breath, but her body still trembled lightly. “What’s in the box?” Natasha asked in a choked voice. 

Dean looked down at the box in his hand with a frown, pondering why she was throwing such a fit about it. But then he opened it and showed her its contents. 

Warily, Natasha leaned an inch closer to get a better look down in it. She breathed a sigh of relief that was nearly hysterical when she saw it was equivalent to a first aid kit, containing Band-Aids, scissors, bandages, but also some cream and lotion. 

Dean sat down on the edge of the bed. With his hands, he gestured for her to come closer. She was on her knees as far away from him as the chain allowed. After hesitating for a couple of seconds, she moved closer. She couldn’t decipher his expression and that made her cautious because he could be unpredictable. 

“On your stomach,” Dean instructed in a toneless voice. Again, it took a couple of seconds before she apprehensively did what he said. His hands slid under the waistband of her pants and panties at her hips, lifted the fabric, and carefully pulled them down. 

Natasha whimpered as it hurt and her face turned red. She hated being exposed to him like that. Turning her head, she watched his every movement. He took the Neosporin he had used on her before, from the box. It was an antibiotic ointment with pain relief effect. He squeezed some out on her left butt cheek. As the cold cream hit her skin, she winced. Dean’s hand carefully laid on her ass and gently began rubbing it in. 

“It hurts…” Natasha groaned through clenched teeth and then inhaled sharply. Though his hand was mild, it felt like he was touching her bare nerve endings. 

“I know,” Dean simply stated in that same toneless voice. Neither of them said anymore while he meticulously rubbed the cream into her skin on both butt cheeks. Natasha didn’t even dare to think about how it looked. 

As he finished up, he pulled her pants and panties up the same way he pulled them down. He released her cuffs from the headboard, but to Natasha’s surprise, he took them completely off her. The skin that had been hidden under the padded handcuffs were pale and wrinkly by the lack of oxygen. But the bruises were gone and the wounds were almost healed. 

She tried to sit up on the bed next to him, but she ended with her feet on the floor and rested on her side on the bed, propped up by her elbow. It was impossible to sit on her behind. 

Dean rubbed the Neosporin on her wrists too before he proceeded to clean the wound on her right palm from the sharp stone yesterday. It was filled with dirt and it started bleeding when he cleaned it. 

Natasha watched as he wrapped her right hand in a bandage. Besides the last traces of fear, she felt empty, and with an odd distance, she observed Dean treat her wounds. 

He put Band-Aids on the cuts on her fingers from when she cleaned up all the shattered glass. When he was about to put a Band-Aid on her index finger, she winced more than with the others. Dean held her finger up in front of him to study it and then found a pair of tweezers from the box and pulled a small piece of glass out of her skin. 

The last cut on her hand received a Band-Aid. From the box, Dean took a bottle of aloe vera lotion. Squeezing some of it into his hand, he brought his hand to her bruised cheek and rubbed it in. He continued down her throat where she had bite marks. 

“Did I forget something?” Dean asked with a raised eyebrow as his eyes wandered down over her. 

“I don’t think so.” Natasha sighed resigned, as she looked down at her plastered up hands. She was glad that her wounds had been cared for, but it was really hypocritical that he treated her wounds so carefully when he was the one who had caused them. But she said, “Thank you,” anyway in the same resigned tone as before. It didn’t seem like she could get her voice to sound any different than that right now. 

Dean’s hand laid under her chin and gently lifted her head to make her look at him. She didn’t have the energy to resist. His hand moved up and cupped her cheek as his thumb stroked her. “Where is your home?” He asked. His tone was firm, but a nearly undetectable softness sneaked into it as if he was talking to a child. 

Natasha didn’t know what to answer and her brown eyes dropped to the floor. 

“This is your home. So where’s your home?” The softness was more prominent at his last sentence. 

“This is my home.” She whispered defeated still with her eyes fixated to the floor.

“Good. What happened yesterday…” Dean started and then trailed off. Natasha raised her gaze only to find Dean looking at the floor now. 

Did she trace a hint of… _repentance?_ Although it was _microscopic_ with several big fat lines under that word. 

Then his green eyes returned to her brown ones. “You understand why I had to do it, don’t you?” Dean asked with a frown. 

Natasha couldn’t help her eyes from flickering back and forth in anxiousness as the events of yesterday flooded her mind. Finally, she managed to nod feebly. Debating him wouldn’t get her anywhere. He was twisted enough that this made sense to him. But it was sick. And Natasha didn’t have any energy to fight right now. 

“When you do stuff like that, it makes me angry and I have to punish you. You know that, right? When you pull a stunt like that, you have it coming, you see? You could make it so much easier for yourself if you would just do as I say. Then I don’t have to beat you like this.” His thumb still stroked her cheek. This was really what he believed. 

“So are you ready to try and be a good girl? If you’re good, you don’t have to wear these before we go to bed.” He pointed at the padded handcuffs on the bed. “Your skin needs some air.” The index finger of his free hand traced over one of her wrists. “And I’ll plug your clock in again. And… maybe some other stuff.” He ended with a shrug. He was really trying to make this work. 

For a short period, Natasha was tired of fighting. And even if she wanted to fight right here on the spot, she knew she couldn’t take another round of punishment from him. Not physically. Not mentally. 

A single tear streaked down her cheek as she nodded. 

 

Seeing her so frightened and beaten by him stirred something somewhere deep in him. Dean felt a consoling smile pull the corner of his lips up as he wiped the tear on her cheek away with his thumb. 

He felt protective of her. But he wanted to protect her from herself. If she kept trying to defy him, he had to punish her. If she just behaved, he wouldn’t have to. Why couldn’t she see that? It was her own fault she looked the way she did right now. 

The anger blossomed in him just by the thought of what she did yesterday. But punishing her even more wouldn’t make her understand more. Not right now at least. That was why he took care of her now. To show her that she would be taken care of if she just did as he said. He deemed her ready to understand that. She couldn’t be so stupid she wouldn’t be able to see the truth. 

He also attended to her wounds to make sure they wouldn’t get infected. Then it would just be triple the work he had just done. Taking care of it made it heal faster too. A bruised cheek or a bite mark didn’t bother him, but her ass was downright unattractive the way it looked now. Blue, purple, black. Red and swollen grazes across her ass from the belt. 

A pink ass after a spanking was a good sight. This was just disgusting. So the quicker it healed, the sooner he’d get rid of that ugly sight. 

 

“Do you want a shower?” Dean asked. Natasha kept her gaze on the floor. For a few moments, she thought about it. She was dirty. Blood and mud covered her along with a heavy smell of sweat. The right side of her hair was still stiff after he… had wiped himself in her hair yesterday. Just thinking about it nauseated her. But what kept her from saying yes to a shower was the fear of how much the water would hurt her ass. 

“Is it okay if I wait a little? Maybe an hour?” She asked quietly and finally looked up at him. 

“Okay, but then change your clothes, you’re filthy.” It didn’t seem like he meant to, but his tone edged towards condescending. He got up and threw some clean clothes on the bed for her. At least he didn’t throw it in her head. 

Dean had already eaten breakfast, so Natasha ate by herself, standing in the kitchen and rested her weight on her forearm. It was impossible to sit down. But to her relief, Dean let her be. 

Halfway through her cereal and tea, Dean leaned against the kitchen table next to her as the kettle boiled for the cup of coffee he was about to make for himself. 

“I’m staying home today.” He simply stated. 

Natasha wondered why he told her that. She didn’t care. “You have very flexible work hours.” She noted dryly. 

“I’m my own boss. I decide when I feel like working.” He said sternly as he poured the now boiled water into his cup and left the kitchen. 

In the living room, Dean was watching something on the TV. Without anything better to do, Natasha stood behind the couch, resting her weight on her forearms on the backrest. Much like how she had stood in the kitchen. 

“You can sit on the couch, you know,” Dean told her. 

“I’m fine here.” She replied quietly.

“Suit yourself.” Dean nearly snapped as he lightly shook his head of her. 

 

After watching the TV with disinterest, Natasha decided to take that shower. She couldn’t stand that clump of stiffened hair anymore. When she told Dean she would take a shower, he simply said it was okay. Secretly she breathed a sigh of relief. 

She undressed and removed the bandage from her hand, but after turning on the water, she just stared at it, trying to figure out how much it would hurt. Finally, she built the courage to step in. Inhaling sharply, she jumped around until the pain had subsided enough for her to stand still though her body was now stiff of pain instead. 

She washed her long brown hair three times with only her left hand because of the wound on her right before she felt clean. While she washed her body, it was like she couldn’t relax completely. The imminent threat of Dean coming in, laid constantly at the back of her head. Especially because she couldn’t lock the door. But the door remained closed. 

The Band-Aids covering her hands stayed on while she showered. They were probably waterproof. Either it was a coincidence or maybe Dean had done it on purpose. Whatever was the reason, she actually didn’t care. 

As she dried herself, she did everything she could to avoid looking at the mirror. She felt worse enough as it was, she didn’t need to see the damage with her eyes so it could haunt her. 

After drying her body, she put the bandage back around her right hand, wrapped the towel around her, and opened the door, intending to go to the bedroom to find some clean clothes. But in front of the bathroom door laid a stack of clean clothes and on top of it was a toothbrush and a deodorant. 

“Thanks.” She hastily said to Dean still sitting on the couch as she picked it up and retreated to the bathroom again. 

She was nearly tripping with the delight it was to wear deodorant and brush her teeth, but soon the feeling of despair laid over her as it always did when Dean did something that made her happy. Because it shouldn’t take so little to make her so grateful. A toothbrush and deodorant? Wow. Her life had really taken a turn for the worse. Tears filled her eyes, but she clenched her jaw and angrily wiped them away with the sleeve of the flannel shirt. 

“Watch some Netflix,” Dean said as she came out of the bathroom. He was in the kitchen. Maybe he was making some preparations for dinner or something. To be honest, Natasha didn’t care. 

She eyed the couch for a couple of moments before she laid down on her stomach and started looking for _Homeland._ An escape from reality was highly welcome, so she could forget her hopeless situation for a moment. 

When Dean was done in the kitchen, he walked in front of the TV. In his hand were a bottle of aloe vera lotion and a little plastic bag. She eyed him suspiciously and her body tensed up. The memories from yesterday still eerily clear in her mind. “Move over,” He tipped his head to the side as well to underline he wanted a seat on the couch too. 

Natasha got on all fours in the left end of the couch and Dean sat down. Before she had figured out how she should position herself with it hurting, Dean said, “Come here.” As he took her upper arm, he guided her down on her stomach on top of him. 

“Relax.” He snapped as he felt how stiff she was on top of him and started pulling her pants and panties down as he had done in the bedroom. 

Even after his words, she couldn’t relax. The bottle of lotion had indicated his intentions, but he was so unpredictable and mean. She inhaled sharply and her body gave a little jump as the cold lotion hit her butt cheeks. Gently, Dean rubbed it in and pulled her pants up when he was done. She heard something shake and looked behind her, already raised herself from her place across Dean’s thighs. His free hand laid on her back and pressed her back down. She saw it was an instant ice pack he was shaking, and slightly unwillingly, she let him push her back down. Again, she inhaled sharply as he placed the ice pack on her ass, but in a matter of seconds the coldness had a relieving effect and against her will, she sighed and slowly started to relax. 

Natasha returned her attention to the TV and as time passed by, she found herself relax more and more as Dean didn’t show any intentions of hurting her. The only thing he did was shake the ice pack to keep it cold, reposition it, or turned it over while his other hand rubbed her back. 

For a long time, the words ‘thank you,’ pressed on her tongue, though a part of her insisted that she shouldn’t thank him for treating something he had caused. Her teeth were clenched so hard, her jaw started to hurt, and finally, she whispered, “Thank you.” 

“This is what it’s like when you’re good and listens.” He spoke in a low tone, but there was an edge to his voice. Natasha had the feeling that there was an underlying threat, and the events from yesterday ghosted in her mind. She tried to push them away, but a shudder coursed through her before she was able to. 

 

At noon, Dean took the remote and paused the series she was watching. “I just wanna see the weather report.” He said and looked out the window with a frown. She followed his gaze and first now, noticed how windy it actually was and saw the dark clouds forming at the horizon. 

They saw the last of the news. Natasha didn’t pay any attention to it because it didn’t matter. What was going on in politics or whatever that was so important it reached the news didn’t mean anything to her in the situation she was in. It was like she lived in her own bubble here. Nothing mattered besides escaping from Dean and she didn’t have the strength to think about it for the next couple of days, at least. 

The weather report came right after the news. What kind of weather it would be, didn’t reach her attention. Her eyes had zeroed in on the dates. Or more specifically what day it was today. 

September 20th – her birthday. 

She raised herself from Dean and he didn’t stop her. He was more focused on what the weather reporter said about the following days. She got to her knees and sat sideways as her mind, in seconds, flooded. 

She should have met with her family and a few friends at her mom and dad’s house. Besides her parents, her grandma, her aunt and her husband along with their daughter, Alicia, would have been there. Her two best friends, Rebecca and Isabelle, would have been there too. Every year for her birthday for as long as she could remember, her mom would bake this incredible coconut cake. On top of it, she would write, _Happy B-day, Natasha_ in green icing. And it would be all uneven because the cake was completely covered in coconut flakes. 

But this year she wouldn’t get her coconut cake or see her family and friends. Tears filled her eyes. She would never have imagined spending one of her birthdays, a day intended to be happy, like this. With a man who abused her and kept her against her will. And beat her up so badly she couldn’t even sit normally. 

All this had run through her mind in a matter of seconds. The tears had begun spilling down her cheeks and she sniffed. In the corner of her eye, she saw Dean turning his head towards her and his brow furrowed as he looked at her. “Why the hell are you crying? I haven’t even touched you yet.” He asked confused. 

It just made her cry even more. How could he be so insensitive? _‘I haven’t even touched you yet’_ she mockingly imitated in her mind. Like him abusing her was the only thing she had to cry about. She hated him! And she wanted to scream it to his face, but she didn’t dare. She wanted to go home and eat her mom’s coconut cake, but she couldn’t. 

He scooted closer and Natasha flinched when his hand reached out for her. She couldn’t control her sobbing anymore. Dean ignored that she had tried to move away from him and pushed a stray strand of hair covering her face behind her ear. “Is it because your ass hurts? I hope you’ve learned your lesson.” He asked, still with his brow furrowed as he tried to decipher her behavior. 

She shook her head and the volume of her sobs increased. It wasn’t because her behind hurt. That was overwhelmingly easy to live with now compared to the other. It was horrible on so many levels. Her life, her family, her friends, her home, her free will… everything had been taken away from her _by him._

“So what is it then?” He asked. His brow was still furrowed, but his tone wasn’t caring. It was more annoyed. 

Even if she wanted to respond, she couldn’t get the words past the lump in her throat. And saying it out loud would make it more real and she already felt devastated. She just wanted to go home. She wished she had never met Dean. She wished everything would just go back to normal. But instead, she was here. 

Dean clenched his jaw and sighed frustrated. He stopped stroking her cheek, grabbed her arm, and pulled to make her upper body face him. Her eyes sill avoided looking at him and a few loud sobs were the only thing that came over her lips. 

“Answer the question,” Dean demanded harshly. His patience was clearly about to be used up. 

After two hiccupy cries, Natasha finally stammered, “It’s… it’s my birthday.” The last vowel was dragged out by a sob. Dean’s grip on her arm loosened and his jaw unclenched. 

 

Her words took him by surprise. In silence, he watched how the tears continued to stream down her face as she sobbed. For a moment that was so short, he wasn’t actually sure it was real, sympathy touched him. Here she sat, all beat up, crying snot all over the place. He narrowed his eyes, but what he felt was already gone. 

He put a finger under her chin and lifted her head though her gaze remained lowered, “Well, chin up. At least you get to spend it with me.” He told her more gently. All she did was sniffing. Her shoulders still shook from the small sobs. 

She’s really feeling down, Dean thought to herself. She was a lot more trouble than he had ever imagined when he decided to keep her. She was constantly fighting him. If she could just stop that for a moment and do as he said, she wouldn’t sit there like that. He felt a little bad seeing her like this. It was her birthday, she should have a smile on her face. 

“Um, I forgot something for dinner. I know I said you shouldn’t wear the cuffs until tonight, but it won't take long, I promise. It’s just until I get back, then I’ll take them off again, okay?” He told her quickly before he got up. The only reaction that let him know she had heard him was a shrug. His teeth clenched again as the annoyance filled him. 

It was like she could feel his disapproval because she whispered with a hiccup, “O-okay.” 

He nodded and got the cuffs from the bedroom. “Is it enough to chain you to the couch while I’m gone?” He asked after cuffing her wrists. “Will you be a good girl and not pull anything funny on me?” He added. Again, his eyes narrowed, revealing the untold threat. He just wanted to make sure, but after yesterday, he doubted she would try anything for a while. 

“Yes.” She whispered. 

“Good girl.” He kissed her forehead before he got up and found the keys to the Impala.   
He made sure the door was safely locked behind him before he found his phone from his pocket and dialed ‘666.’

“Dean, what I can do for you? Thought you didn’t have time for our meeting today. Did you change your mind?” Crowley’s voice was exasperatingly polite, but the sarcasm wasn’t completely hidden. 

“Shut up, Crowley. Listen… I have a favor to ask. I need you to find out something for me. It’s kinda weird but just do it. Okay, here goes…”

 

Natasha’s crying slowly ebbed off while Dean was gone. She stared down at her cuffed hands. An empty and hollow feeling had filled her from the inside out. He treated her like a dog. Like he owned her. But right now, she was just so tired into her deepest core that she couldn’t find the strength to care.


	10. Chapter 10

Natasha heard the car in the driveway followed by the door opening, but she just looked at her hands. She heard him walk to the kitchen and place a paper bag on the table before he came to the couch and released her from the cuffs as he had promised. 

“Hey. Come here.” Dean demanded from the kitchen after rustling around with the bag, probably emptying it. 

With a sigh, Natasha got up from the couch and shuffled to the kitchen with bowed head. When she stood beside him at the table, he placed something in front of her with a lot more force than needed. He removed his hand and she saw it was a pint of ice cream. He placed a spoon on top of it, likewise with more force than needed. 

Natasha’s brow furrowed and when she looked questioning up at Dean, she saw he was already looking at her. There was a softness in his green gaze. “Happy Birthday, Natasha.” He said with the same softness his eyes showed. 

It gave a jerk in her body and she blinked a couple of times when he said her name. That he could remember her name was surprising and that he used it was even more of a surprise considering the way he was. It wouldn’t have surprised her if he had decided to call her Nadia because he _liked it better._ But on the other hand, she did stab him in the throat last time he couldn’t remember her name. 

This must be some kind of trick, was the next thing that reached her mind. Maybe it was filled with laxatives or something that would make her puke her guts out. 

Her gaze had dropped to the pint of ice cream and had scrutinized it warily while all these thoughts ran through her mind, now her gaze returned to Dean’s. He flashed her a genuine smile without any mocking, or scorn, or anything. For a moment, she got a flashback to the night at the club. He had sent her the same smile there. Except back then, she had found it breathtaking. That effect had worn off. 

Her brown eyes returned to the ice cream and she noticed something she didn’t before. “How did you know pistachio is my favorite?” Natasha asked with narrowed eyes. This had to be a gimmick of some sort. It just had to be. 

Dean just looked at her with a crooked smile and an enigmatic glint in his eyes. It dawned on her that he knew things about her in some weird way. Maybe more than he led on. 

His left hand reached up to her cheek, Dean ignored the fact that she flinched, and stroked her. “Go on, eat it. Knock yourself out.” He told her kindly. The secretive attitude was gone. “You want me to take a bite first, so you know you won't die or what?” He added amusedly after a few seconds where she still hadn't moved or said anything. 

“No, it’s okay. Thank you.” Natasha grabbed the ice cream and spoon and took a step back to escape his touch. His hand fell down to his side and he sent her a last smile before she turned around and walked to the couch. Hesitatingly, she looked at the ice cream and the couch, wondering how she could place herself but realized she wouldn’t find a comfortable position other than lying on her stomach, so that was what she did. 

When she had laid down, she screwed off the cap. Dean hadn't just gotten her favorite ice cream, he had even gotten her favorite brand of pistachio – Talenti Sicilian Pistachio Gelato. To be on the safe side, she sniffed to it. It smelled normal. Then she took a small bite. It tasted normal too. And then she eagerly dug in the spoon and started eating while she found _Homeland_ on Netflix. 

A few minutes later, Dean demanded a seat on the couch as well. Natasha got on all fours and as earlier, Dean guided her down to lie across his thighs. 

“What are you doing?” She asked startled when he began pulling her pants down. With an annoyed sigh, he showed her the tube of Neosporin. Her body relaxed and sank back down where she continued to eat her ice cream. 

Natasha inhaled sharply a couple of times and writhed uncomfortably as he rubbed it in, but before he was done, she could already feel the relieving effect. 

For a short period, Natasha allowed herself to forget everything besides Netflix and the ice cream. It was too depressing to think of all the things that were wrong with this day. Actually, been wrong since she met Dean… 

The first half of the pint was gone fast. It was delicious and it had been so long since she has had it. But halfway through it, she slowed down, both to enjoy every bit of it, but also because her stomach was nearly full. She just couldn’t stop. She wouldn’t stop. 

“After you’ve eaten all that ice cream, your mouth is all cold and perfect for a blowjob, you know,” Dean said in a too sweet voice when there was only one-third left of the ice cream. Her body stiffened as her breath stilled and the spoon stopped digging up the next mouthful. 

She swallowed loudly and turned her head to look up at him. A sly smile played on his lips as he thoughtfully grabbed her chin and let his thumb stroke over her lower lip. “Maybe next time. It is, after all, your birthday.” The threat hidden in his sweet voice didn’t go by undetected. “Eat your ice cream.” He said with a smile before letting her chin go. 

Natasha gulped loudly before continuing to eat as he had said, though she ate much slower now. 

She finished her ice cream in peace. When it was time to make dinner, Dean said she could stay and watch Netflix instead of helping, because it was her birthday. He made a delicious marinated flank steak with green beans and baked potatoes. 

That he let her be most of the day both made her grateful, but also cautious. She never knew when he would turn on a dime again. But because it was her birthday, she seemed to have drawn some kind of free card. That just made her more anxious for tomorrow…

 

After dinner, Dean put aloe vera lotion on her behind. And when they were about to go to bed, he put Neosporin on. 

As she undressed and crawled under the duvet on her stomach, Dean plugged her digital clock in and set it before he got under the covers as well. 

“Oh, almost forgot.” He mumbled mostly to himself as he got up. Natasha’s eyes followed him out of the bedroom. When he came back, he had the padded handcuffs with him. 

Her heart sank to her stomach. She had hoped he would forget. But she dutifully held her hands forth, knowing there was no way around it. 

“Do you want a birthday kiss?” Dean asked when he was back in bed. He was propped up on his elbow, resting his chin in his palm, looking down on her. 

Was it a trap? Or a trick question? She didn’t know, but she ended up saying, “No,” in a timid voice. 

“Can I get a goodnight kiss then?” He asked innocently with a crooked smile. 

Was _this_ a trap or a trick question? He seemed to have accepted her rejection for the birthday kiss, but that didn’t mean he would accept her denying him twice. 

“This is the _only_ day you get to say no to me, got it?” Dean said more sternly when she hesitated with answering. 

“I-I got it.” She stammered. It took a couple of seconds before the full meaning of his words sank in. 

“So, can I get a goodnight kiss?” He asked again. There was an impatient hint in his tone. 

“No,” Natasha said immediately. Taking full advantage of what he had just told her. 

“Fine. There’s always a day tomorrow.” He said with a small sigh as he leaned forward and placed a quick kiss on her forehead instead. 

 

Long after Dean was asleep, Natasha worried about his words. _There’s always a day tomorrow._ When he was nice to her, the abuse afterward seemed worse. Or maybe it was something she imagined. Either way, it didn’t make it easier. 

During the day, she had pushed the fact that it was her birthday as far back in her head as possible. It hurt too much to think about it, but now she couldn’t help herself. What she had pushed to the back since she got the ice cream just flooded her now where Dean was asleep next to her. 

She wondered what her family had done today. Did her mom make the cake anyway to comfort them all while she wasn’t there? Had they already bought her presents when she went missing? What did they think had happened to her? Did they think she was dead? She wished she just could go home. A couple of tears left her eyes and wetted the pillow. 

She didn’t know how much longer she could endure this.

 

Dean getting out of bed woke her. She had a pounding headache after all the crying yesterday. When she remembered why she had cried so much, her mood dropped below the freezing point. 

“Good morning kiss,” Dean demanded as he leaned over her after getting dressed. Tiredly, she turned her head towards him but didn’t purse her lips. He pressed his lips harshly onto hers and inhaled heavily as he kissed her for several seconds. 

As soon as he turned his back to her, she wiped her mouth in the duvet. Apparently, she wasn’t getting breakfast today, but right now, she didn’t care. She was starting to not care about a lot of things, she absentmindedly thought. 

 

Dean parked outside the diner where he would meet up with Crowley. And surely, the King of Hell sat at the far end of the diner with his two bodyguard demons. 

“Did your little _toy_ like her ice cream?” Crowley asked with a raised eyebrow before putting a piece of pancake in his mouth. 

“Shut up, Crowley.” Dean snapped and waved at a waitress to come over and take his order. 

“Do you want me to find out what her favorite kind of flower is too? Or her favorite brand of chocolate? Maybe her favorite color as well?” It was clear Crowley was downright mocking him now. 

“I said, shut the fuck up, Crowley!” Dean growled under his breath and his eyes turned black. The anger was rising in him, quickly nearing the boiling point when Crowley’s bodyguard demons reached for their blades. His muscles were tense, poised to attack when Crowley told them off with a wave of his hand. He took a deep breath and felt his shoulders relax a bit and the blackness in his eye retreat. 

“Mind your blood pressure, Dean. I was simply hinting that maybe you’ve gone a little soft with this one.” Crowley said innocently, but his British accent could make anything sound belittling even if he didn’t mean to. 

“I haven’t gone soft. I’ll goddamn show you soft if you don’t stop talking right now.” He sneered through his clenched teeth. 

“Fine. Fine, have it your way, Dean. Should we discuss our program for today instead?” Crowley’s voice was back to overly cheerily and self-satisfied. 

 

It was nice to have the digital clock again. Natasha watched as the minutes passed by, trying to get her count to match the shifting numbers. Her stomach growled, but it was like she was more used to it now. And after everything she ate yesterday, it wasn’t so bad. 

At 1 p.m., Natasha heard a car in the driveway. That was early, she thought to herself. To her relief, the headache was finally gone.

Dean came into the bedroom, and Natasha couldn’t help but stiffen in anxiousness. She relaxed when he waved the tube of Neosporin in front of her as he sat down and took the duvet off her. Gently, he pulled her panties down and started rubbing it in. “It looks better.” He simply stated. 

It still hurt and stung, but she had to admit it was better than yesterday. 

After finishing up, he released her from the cuff. Like yesterday, he took them completely off her. When she had gotten dressed and walked into the living room, Dean was removing the piece of cardboard covering the window she broke the day before yesterday. 

“What are you doing?” She asked in a low voice. 

“Well, _someone_ broke my goddamn window.” Dean snapped and Natasha winced. The memories from that day flushed over her. When she looked around, she eyed a big box in the hall with ‘fragile’ written all over it. It was probably the new window. 

“I’m sorry.” She mumbled timidly under her breath. All Dean did, was scoff at her. 

“Is it okay if I eat some breakfast?” Natasha mumbled in the same tone as she fidgeted with the bandage around her right hand. 

“Yeah, if you make me a sandwich first.” 

“O-okay.” She stammered and shuffled to the kitchen with bowed head. If that was all it took for her to be allowed breakfast, she was fine with it. 

“Ham and cheese. A little bit of lettuce.” He ordered sternly. 

When she had made the sandwich, she put it on a plate and brought it to him. She hoped she had made it like he wanted it. If she messed up, he might punish her, and she couldn’t take any more punishment right now, so she just wanted to please him. 

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Dean said when he paused his work and took it. Natasha held her breath when he took a bite. “Mm, it’s good.” He told her with a smile, and she breathed a sigh of relief before walking back to the kitchen to get something to eat herself. Again, she had to eat while standing up. 

 

“Turn around,” Dean demanded when they both laid in bed that night. Natasha still had to lie on her stomach. She swallowed thickly by his demand, but then decided it was best to do as he said, even though she had a bad feeling about it. With some trouble, she got on her side and then slowly laid down on her back while she inhaled sharply several times as it stung. 

He lifted her duvet and scooted closer, “No, please…” Natasha begged almost inaudible. 

“Spread your legs, baby. I want you.” Dean ordered in a sensual tone. 

He had been so kind to her today. Left her be, and rubbed her behind with aloe vera and Neosporin. He hadn't even groped her or asked for any more kisses beside the good morning kiss. Why did he have to ruin that now? She felt the tears rise in her eyes as she reluctantly spread her legs for him. 

She whimpered when he laid on top of her and pressed her deeper into the mattress. His weight made her behind sting more. A tear left her eye when he rubbed against her. 

“Shh, baby. Don’t cry.” Dean whispered and stroked her cheek before he released her cuffs from the headboard. Her hands flew down to his chest and feebly tried to push him away. It was like he didn’t even notice her struggle. 

“Shh. You’ve been good. You’ve been a good girl, sweetheart. I think you deserve some foreplay this time.” His low voice was sweet, but he still managed to make it sound like he talked down to her. Natasha shook her head and a sob escaped her. 

“Shh,” He hushed before he pressed his lips to hers. His left hand cupped her cheek and stroked her while his right moved down to grab her bare breast. His naked upper body moved against her skin as his growing bulge rubbed between her legs. Dean moaned into the kiss for every rub, she whimpered as it pressed her into the mattress and hurt her still bruised and scraped butt cheeks. 

“Come on,” He lured as his lips deviated from hers and continued down her neck. “I’m really making an effort here, baby.” He mumbled against the sensitive skin of her neck. She knew him so well by now that she detected the hidden threat in his words. 

His left hand that stroked her cheek moved to the back of her neck and grabbed a fistful of her brown hair. Natasha’s hands still fruitlessly pushed on his chest to keep him at a distance, but she could just as well had tried to move a brick wall. 

A part of her knew her struggle and protests were weak and pathetic. She had to fight him, but she just didn’t have much left to fight with. 

Dean rubbed harder against her. His kissing on her neck and his caress of her breast became more insisting and harsher. He let out an exasperated sigh and his lips moved to her ear, “If you don’t appreciate this soon, little slut, I’ll just go straight to fucking you.” Dean warned. 

“I can't… I can't take anymore…” She cried desperately like she couldn’t breathe. Her missing energy to fight, the stinging on her ass, and Dean who were about to force himself on her, made her wish the bed would just absorb her and take her away. It was all too much and she heaved in deep, rapid breaths, but it still felt like she couldn’t get enough oxygen out of the air. 

“Hmm,” Dean lifted his head to scrutinize her with pursed lips and narrowed eyes. “It’s a long time since I’ve been in your ass.” He said thoughtfully. 

“No…” Natasha said in a choked voice as she shook her head. “Please…” She sobbed. 

“Shh. Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle. You remember our first time?” He asked as a fiendish smile dawned on his lips. “You know what? I feel a little sentimental.” He said cryptically as he raised himself from her body. When Dean stood up, he grabbed the chain of her cuffs and pulled. Natasha got yanked forward and out of the bed. The front of her body landed on the floor with a thud and she let out a yelp. The only thing keeping her head from bumping onto the floor as well was Dean holding her halfway up by the cuffs. 

Dean let go of her cuffs, grabbed under her arms instead, and threw her upper body on the bed. She bounced a couple of times until Dean’s left hand grabbed her neck to keep her down before she could do anything. “Remember this, sweetheart?” He chuckled and found the hook between the mattresses. Because the chain on her padded handcuffs was longer, he had to wrap it several times around the hook to keep her arms stretched in front of her. 

“Dean, please don’t do this…” She begged in a high-pitched whine, as the lump in her throat grew bigger. 

The grasp on her neck disappeared, but then she felt the leather cuff being tightened around her right thigh, just above her knee. Then her left thigh, forcing her legs farther apart. She buried her head in the duvet and sobbed softly and inconsolably, knowing there was no way out. 

“Let’s see,” Dean pondered as he pulled her panties down, increasing her sobs. “I think I’ll warm your ass up first.” He told her as if it was a reward in itself. She jolted when she felt his Vaseline covered fingers circle her second hole. With her head buried deep in the duvet, she shook her head to try and deny him. But she knew she couldn’t fight him. What was about to happen was inevitable. 

“Your ass looks disgusting, you know,” Dean noted clearly repulsed. 

“You were the one that beat me!” Natasha lifted her head and yelled tearfully with red cheeks. 

“I know,” Dean said softly as he shoved his middle finger into her ass, making her cry out. “But you stabbed me. Twice. Don’t you think it’s fair?” He asked. It was clear he was of the opinion that he had gone easy on her. 

She didn’t dare to contradict him. Not even by shaking her head in fear of him doing something worse to her. 

“Ow!” She cried out when he shoved another finger into her. Stretching her more than good was. If it already hurt so much with only two of his fingers, how much wouldn’t it hurt when it was his dick? She remembered it hurting, too vividly, but did it really hurt _this_ much?

Finally, he pulled his fingers out. It was a relief. But what would follow, made her afraid. 

“Let me see,” Dean let out an anticipated sigh and then she heard him spit in his hand. The open palm slap on her sex made her head snap up with a yelp. Two fingers pushed into her folds and stirred roughly. 

“There. Now you’re all wet and lubed up for me.” Dean chuckled and pulled his boxers down. A second later, she felt the tip of him press against her opening. He hammered his member into her pussy, and she screamed out as his hips slammed against her sore butt cheeks. 

“Oh yeah, that’s right. I fucked your little cunt like this the first time.” Dean grunted out as he hammered hard and fast into her repeatedly, making her scream out, only interrupted when she needed to suck in a deep breath to continue. 

Abruptly, he stopped his hard thrusting. His hand grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head back. “And then I asked you if you ever let anybody in this hole,” He said slyly as his thumb stroked over her Vaseline covered second hole. 

“No! No-o-o…” Natasha sobbed helplessly. She hated the way he dragged it out and played with her. 

“That’s exactly what you said the first time.” Dean snickered and let go of her hair. She could hear the cold smile in his voice. He pulled his member out of her folds and hovered right outside her nether orifice for a couple of second before he slowly pressed inside with a deep moan. “Oh, I was your first. Yes, I was. And I’m the only one that’s ever gonna be in this hole, baby.” Dean moaned profoundly as he pushed all the way into her. Natasha barely heard him over her screams that had risen to a hysterical note as the pain spread strongly through her. 

He leaned over her back, wrapped his arm around her throat, and tightened. Cutting off her scream. “Mmm, your ass is almost as tight as our first time. Maybe I should let a couple of days pass between fucking your ass. Oh, who am I kidding? I’m not just fucking you, I’m raping you, you fucking slut. But don’t worry, baby. I’ll be gentle. I promise.” He had already started his slow retreat as he talked. Reaching the apex, he pushed back into her. “Baby, I’ve said this before, but the more you resist, the more it’s gonna hurt.” He told her in a low soothing voice. 

When he loosened his arm, she sucked in a deep welcoming breath before screaming out. “Shh. Shut up.” He whispered in her ear in the same voice he had just used as his arm tightened. 

Whatever Natasha did to escape him was pointless. Her body was completely constrained underneath him. It felt like it hurt more this time than the others did. His slow thrusts made his hips bump lightly against her sore butt cheeks, adding to the pain. 

The deprivation of oxygen made her dizzy and small black spots started to appear in her vision. Right when she thought she couldn’t go without air any longer, his arm loosened. 

“Stop! Stop! Please, just sto-o-op…” She sobbed after heaving in a deep breath. Her worst nightmare was on repeat.

“I can't stop. You know that, baby. I have to finish in your ass.” Dean still used that low, sweet tone like he was comforting her. He kissed her cheek, licked the tears off his lips, and kissed her temple. “You want this to be over?” He asked cunningly. 

She nodded and pushed out a frail hicuppy, “ye-e-es…”

“Then I’m giving you a choice, baby. You want me to finish hard but fast in your ass, or long and slow?” There was an edge to his tone as he held still inside her. 

Natasha couldn’t help but shake her head. She didn’t want any of it. She just wanted him to stop. Her energy felt so drained. Her body was already damp from struggling, crying, and the constant pain, causing her body to be stiff underneath him. 

“Tick-tock.” Dean mocked, but it was clearly a warning. 

She didn’t know what was worst. Him going slow and dragging it out, or going fast, guaranteeing it would hurt more but be over sooner. 

“I don’t know…” She sobbed. 

“Take a _pick_!” He pulled back and gave her a hard thrust as he said ‘pick,’ making her scream again. The hard brutal thrust made it feel like she was being impaled. “If you don’t pick soon, I promise to rape you a second time tonight.” He sneered tauntingly in her ear. 

“Slow. Slow…” She whispered defeated. Convinced that she couldn’t handle the pain his fast pace would cause her. 

“Mmm, good choice, baby. It’s so long since I’ve been in your ass, I want to enjoy it too.” Dean moaned appreciatively and pulled back to resume his slow thrusting. 

The pain cut through her every time he pushed deep into her. It was like his dick was covered in sandpaper, rasping its way through her and stretching her more than she could handle. His arm tightened around her throat, deadening her pained screams and wailing. He let his tongue lick her cheek as he moaned passionately. “Your tears still taste good.” He whispered in her ear. “Oh, I love that this hole is mine. And only mine. It’s so nice to have a clean hole to fuck. God knows how many you’ve let into your little cunt and that pretty little mouth of yours. But this hole… oh, yes, this hole is mine. Nobody’s been in here but me and it feels so good.” His tone was slow and soft, matching his thrusts, but the taunting that covered every word ruined his attempt to sound sweet. 

Dean’s arm only loosened long enough for her to suck in a deep breath, and tightened again when the scream was about to build in her throat. The tears spilled down her cheeks without a stop. The longer he went on, the more it hurt her. Her body had been so stiff with agony for so long, she felt her muscles spasm and tremble. 

His upper body that rubbed against her back felt feverish and sweaty. His hot breath on her cheek nauseated her. 

Right now, she wished he would take her other hole, though that was worse enough. Every assault from him didn’t only hurt her physically, it made deep wounds in her soul and the scars would always be there, even after she escaped. If she ever did. 

“Oh, baby, your ass feels so good. I’ve really missed raping your ass. It’s so tight around me. Oh, it feels so good. It’s gonna be so good to come in your ass again. I think I’ll watch it run out of you, so I can see how much I came inside you. You know, your ass makes me come so much, it’s like half a gallon. But it feels good being filled with my load, right? It feels good to feel how much I’ve dirtied your ass up. I know you resist me because you think you have to, but truth is, you like being filled in your forbidden hole like a stuffed turkey at thanksgiving.” His taunting knew no end and she could hear how much it turned him on to condescend her like that. She could even feel how it made the blood pound in his member inside her. 

Her sight was blurred by the continuous choking and she was so dizzy it felt like her body was spinning. The only thing holding her earth-bound was the pain from his dick. It sliced through the fog and vertigo. She wanted to escape into unconsciousness, but the pain wouldn’t let her. 

“Oh, I’m soon gonna come in your ass, baby. Are you my little slut? Hmm? Are you? Of course, you are. You even have a nametag with my name on it. Maybe I should give you a tattoo too. I think I’ll do that next time you misbehave. Mmm, baby, I’m gonna come in your little whore ass. Yeah, this ass ain’t a virgin anymore. It’s a little dirty whore ass. You’re a filthy little slut, aren’t you? You take it in every hole. That’s just cheap. You’re a fucking cheap little slut!” His taunting tone became harsher as his tempo upped slightly, going a little harder and a little faster into her. To Dean the change was almost imperceptible, to her, it made a world of difference. 

“Oh, you fucking slut, I’m gonna come in your ass. Fuck yes, I’m raping your ass and I’m gonna come in it. I’m raping you, you cheap slut. I’m raping your ass and I’m gonna come so hard and deep inside you. Fuck yes, I am. Spread your legs and open your ass for me, you little cunt. I’m gonna come in your ass. I’m coming in your ass!” Dean grunted half of it out through his clenched teeth when he, in less than ten thrusts that got harder and wilder, came deep inside her ass. 

“Oh, fuck yes,” Dean sighed contentedly and rested some of his weight on her. “I came in your ass, baby.” He mocked before his arm around her throat loosened, setting free her screams that morphed into sobs. 

“Shh. Why are you crying? You wanted this.” Dean asked in his sweet soothing voice. “You wanted me to go slow and that’s what I did. I gave you what you wanted and this is how you repay me? Crying like a spoiled child? You’re a little brat.” He sneered the last thing to her before he pulled out of her with a weak but satiated moan. 

She faintly heard him pull up his boxers, stand up, and rummage around to find something before either sitting or lying behind her again. The click of the lighter told her before she could smell the smoke that he was lighting a cigarette. 

Knowing that he watched her made her cheek burn more severely as she felt his sticky load trickle out of her hurting ass. After every sob, she winced as she felt how it pushed it out of her and made it flow down her thighs. 

“Someone said to me today, that I might have gone a little soft. Do you think I’ve gotten soft?” He asked her as if he truly didn’t know the answer. When he didn’t receive an answer as expected, he continued, “Maybe I am. Look at your ass. I was so gentle to your ass you’re not even bleeding. So what do you have to cry about? Hmm?” His tone got harder throughout the sentence. 

“Why are you doing this?” Natasha sniveled after a long silence where her sobs had quieted down a bit. 

“Because I’m a demon.” He said matter-of-factly and if she wasn’t mistaken… a little proud?

She heard him put out the cigarette and get up. He released her legs from the leather cuffs and she instantly closed her legs. Natasha let out a yelp as it hurt and she felt more of his load run out of her. It was disgusting. The puke rose in her throat and she swallowed thickly. If she puked on the bed, he was probably going to punish her. 

He released the chain from the bed. “Get up.” He demanded. Natasha lifted her upper body so she could pull her panties up before she weakly crawled up on the bed while crying softly. When she laid on her stomach, Dean chained her to the head of the bed and laid down beside her. 

Her thighs and behind were sticky and her panties were wet. She wanted to wipe it off, but with her hands chained above her head, she couldn’t. 

She cried long after Dean fell asleep.


	11. Living Hell

Finally, she drifted into a restless sleep. Nightmares woke her more than once and she was disgusted with how sticky she still felt between her legs. 

Dean forced her to give him a kiss before they ate breakfast and another one before he took off. Natasha was so tired, she nearly dropped her head in her cereal and went straight to sleep after he left for work. 

The rest of the day passed as in a fog. She was tired and inattentive to her surroundings. At night, Dean forced another kiss from her, but to her relief, that was all that happened. This night, Natasha found it hard to fall asleep. She just stared at the wall or at her clock, watching the minutes tick by. It was way past three in the morning before the sleep overpowered her. 

Less than three hours later, Dean woke her. Demanding a kiss. The past days he had kissed her too harshly like he could force some kind of passion out of her the harder he kissed her. Starting her day like that, made her mood drop lower than it ever had been. The only upside was that her behind was better, so if she was careful, she could sit down like a normal person. 

After Dean left for work, she drifted in and out of an uncomfortable sleep. The other upside was that beside the kisses, he had more or less left her alone. Until they had finished eating dinner that evening… 

Natasha sat as far to the right on the couch as possible to get as much distance between her and Dean as she could. They were watching some movie Dean had picked, and honestly, she didn’t pay that much attention to it. 

Dean scooted closer and put his arm around her waist. She stiffened and leaned her upper body over the armrest to get away from him. 

“Come on,” Dean lured and pulled her closer. His free hand grabbed her jaw and turned her head to face him. “Don’t you wanna cuddle a little with me?” He bit his lower lip, but the smirk was still obvious. As he leaned forward, his teeth captured her lower lip and pulled before he sealed his lips to hers. 

They both knew that if she wanted to or not was subordinate. What mattered was what he wanted. He took whatever he wanted and if she tried to refuse him, he would punish her and take it anyway. Without much energy to fight with, Natasha simply remained passive. Her lips were motionless against his. 

With his body, he got her pressed down so her upper body was twisted and her back rested on the armrest of the couch. She winced and inhaled sharply as it stung on her not-completely-healed behind. 

He only detached his lips from hers to yank her left leg up on the couch and laid himself between her legs. His right arm moved from her waist up to grab her brown hair while his left hand unbuttoned the two top buttons in the oversized flannel shirt she was wearing. His hand dug down in it and fondled her breast.

Out of habit, her hands laid on his chest to try to push ham away, but other than that, her lips remained motionless while her body stayed limp and immovable. 

He got her lips pried apart and his tongue invaded her mouth. Her tongue laid still while his tried harder and harder to provoke a reaction from her. Dean rubbed against her, but she couldn’t feel him grow harder. Meaning there was no immediate danger other than humiliation. 

She was disgusted with him. Kissing him was so repulsive it was like she could feel the puke rise in her throat. 

Hold on a second. 

It wasn’t imaginary. She actually had to puke! She jolted and suddenly, she fought with unexpected strength. A strength she hadn't felt for days. “I have to go to the bathroom!” She said panicky. 

Her sudden powerful struggle took him by surprise and easier than she had thought possible, she tumbled to the floor and ran to the bathroom with her hand clamped over her mouth. 

She barely made it to the toilet before she emptied her dinner down the drain. Even after her stomach was empty, she kept retching and cramping while only throwing stomach acid up. 

“Didn’t know kissing me was that disgusting!” Dean yelled mockingly from the living room. 

There was a short pause in her retching, long enough for her to crawl to the sink and drink some water directly from the tap before she turned around and threw up the water with a groan. 

The water was gentler to her throat. The stomach acid made it burn and left a highly unpleasant aftertaste. 

For the next half hour or maybe longer, she crawled back and forth from the sink to the toilet. Her stomach continued to cramp and forced everything back up. 

Finally, head deep in the toilet bowl, it stopped. Natasha panted as she fumbled after the toilet paper, so she could wipe her mouth. She felt slightly dizzy and her stomach still hurt after the cramps. After a couple more minutes, she felt strong enough to pull her head out of the toilet. She washed her hands and mouth at the sink. As she looked in the mirror, she noticed how pale she was and her eyes were a little red. 

“Do you feel sick?” She asked Dean in a frail voice from the door to the bathroom. 

“Demon’s don’t get sick,” Dean said like it was the worst joke he had ever heard. “Now that I think about it that pork smelled a bit funny before I cooked it.” He mocked. 

Just mentioning food made her hurry back to the toilet. 

Urgh, it’s gotta be food poisoning, Natasha thought to herself. Though she couldn’t remember the pork chops smelling funny or looking bad or uncooked. Maybe it wasn’t tonight’s dinner that had caused it. 

 

Dean actually felt a pang of guilt after mocking her. She sounded really sick. He paused the movie and then knocked on the bathroom door, “Are you okay in there?” His tone wasn’t as soft as he meant it to be. The guilt had already left him and he didn’t feel bad for her anymore. In seconds, he had already forgotten it was ever there. All he thought about was that he hoped she had aimed at the toilet bowl and not gotten it everywhere. If she had, he would make her clean it up herself. Then she could learn not to be such a pig. 

“Maybe in a minute,” He heard her groan from the other side of the door, and then walked back to the couch and started the movie again. 

He hoped it would be over soon. It wasn’t exactly delicious kissing her with the prize of puke-taste. Or fucking her hoping she could hold it in long enough to not puke all over the bed. Even though she couldn’t pass the virus or food poisoning or whatever it was on to him, he decided to stay away from her until it was over. Puke wasn’t really a turn on for him. It was disgusting and… unsanitary. 

If it took too long and he got horny, he could always fuck her in the bathroom with her bend over the toilet. Problem solved. 

He decided to give her two days before he seriously considered fucking her with her head in the toilet. 

“Have you brushed your teeth?” Dean snapped when he heard the door to the bathroom open behind him. 

“Um, yes.” She answered in a small voice. 

“Good.” Anything else would be disgusting. He didn’t want to smell her puke-breath for the rest of the evening. “Come and sit.” Instead of standing there like a retard. Why was she always so fucking difficult? Her IQ couldn’t be more than a double digit. Just thinking about how stupid she was sometimes annoyed him. If her ass weren’t so good, he would have thrown her away already. 

She sat down next to him on the couch. Looking at her, he was reminded why he had kept her. Why he had even approached her on the dance floor that night. 

There was a certain… innocence to her. She had bashfully bit her lip and tugged down in her too short black dress. On the dance floor, she hadn't ground herself as vulgarly against other people as some of the other bitches, but her hips had swayed almost gracefully to the heavy beat. 

She was slender but curvy the right places. Her brown eyes were like dark chocolate. And her long hair… he liked long hair. The color wasn’t so important to him as long as it was a natural color. 

Her face was symmetric. None of her features were sharp or prominent, they were more soft. Like a baby’s, just without the… babyness. If that even made sense. Her cheekbones were high, her nose had a snub shape. Her lips were full and had a natural pinkness to them, and her teeth were white and straight. She had angled high eyebrows. They had been thinner when he met her, but now where she hadn't plucked them in some time the shape wasn’t as outlined. Maybe he should buy her a pair of tweezers. The one in his first aid kit wouldn’t work. 

He had to admit she looked better without all that makeup she had worn when he met her. She looked like a fucking whore in that club. But well-groomed eyebrows weren’t skanky. 

But what was most beautiful about her was her ass. With his dick in it. Or in black lace panties, that looked good too. 

Her face was almost as beautiful as her ass. 

“Did you make a mess out there?” Dean asked with narrowed eyes as he with his head hinted towards the bathroom. 

“No.” She shook her head without looking at him and fidgeted with the bandage around her right hand. 

“If you puke anywhere else than that toilet bowl, you clean it up yourself. Got it?” 

“I got it.” She mumbled so low he barely heard her. If she hadn't looked so pale and all red-eyed, he would have demanded her to speak up. Didn’t people raise their kids to have manners nowadays? 

He returned his attention to the movie before he got even more annoyed by her behavior than he already was. 

 

“Here’s a bucket.” He placed it at her bedside after rubbing that Neosporin on her ass. It looked better for each day that passed. It was mostly yellow and brownish, instead of purple, and black. The scrapes from the belt had a fine scab and were healing nicely as well. It would be nice when it healed completely, making her ass perfect again. He actually had to admit that her ass might be the most perfect plump one he had ever come across. It was perfect both inside and outside. 

“Thank you,” She whispered. She looked better after drinking a lot of water. Maybe he should buy some yogurt for her tomorrow instead. It would be a waste to stuff her with expensive food if she just threw it down the drain. 

 

At breakfast, she looked normal and ate her cereal without any trouble. And she hadn't puked during the night. Which was a relief. Maybe it was just a stomach virus. 

But then five minutes after she finished, she suddenly jumped up with her hand covering her mouth and stormed to the bathroom. 

Dean let his hand run over his face as he sighed and dropped the spoon in his bowl. The sound of her puking her guts out made him loose his appetite. So he took both their bowls and mugs to the kitchen to clean up. 

Through the wall, he could hear the tap running and then her puking again. What the hell? That girl couldn’t keep anything down. He was pretty sure he thoroughly cooked that meat last night. God, she was worse than a pregnant woman. 

Oh, hold on a second… 

“Oh, son of a bitch…” He sighed and tilted his head back with closed eyes. He had to admit he hadn't exactly thought it through when he fucked her cunt and threatened her with it. 

Well, it could still be a stomach virus. On the other hand, wasn’t it a bit early to show any signs? Yeah, it was. It was way too early. Besides, it was limited how many times he had fucked her cunt. It would be a freaking miracle if she got pregnant so fast. What was the chance of him hitting her ovulation perfectly with the few times he had fucked her cunt? Not particularly big. She wasn’t pregnant. It had to be a stomach virus. Definitely. But just to be on the safe side, he decided to buy a test later today. Maybe it would give her a good scare. The tips of his lips curled up just by the thought of her face if she thought she was pregnant. Ha. Then you can learn not to be such a cheap skank that opens her holes up for anybody. 

 

“Are you done in there?” She heard Dean knock on the door after a while where she had just sat on the floor with her head in the toilet. 

“I think so,” Natasha said and lifted her head slowly. When that didn’t provoke anything, she stood up to wash her hands and brush her teeth. 

When she opened the door, Dean was leaning against the wall with crossed arms, looking disapprovingly at her. 

Sorry I got sick, I didn’t do it to piss you off, she felt like saying, but held her tongue. He would probably just punish her if she dared to throw any snarky comments at him. 

“Get in the bedroom. I’m gonna be late and it’s your fault.” He scolded as he walked behind her. Natasha let out a tired sigh. 

“Remember to aim for the bucket if you have to puke while I’m gone,” Dean said before he closed the door to the bedroom. 

Oddly enough, her nausea was almost completely gone. She had drunk a lot of water after brushing her teeth and that seemed to have knocked it down. Just like yesterday. 

Natasha felt tired, so she closed her eyes and tried to sleep. She still felt weak and under the weather like you do right before you go down with the flu just without the snot and coughing and fever. That could still come, though. 

Her sleep was frequently interrupted. First, she felt too hot, then she felt too cold, and then too hot again. It strengthened her suspicion that she was actually on her way to get sick. She was glad her behind was better so she was able to lie on her back. And having her clock made it easier to keep track of time, and it was like the day passed faster when she knew what time it was. 

 

When Dean came back, she was actually relieved. For the past half hour, all the water she had drunk this morning was threatening to burst her bladder, and when Dean opened the door to the bedroom, she was lying with her legs crossed to keep it in. 

“Can I please go to the bathroom?” She asked as politely as she could when he unchained her from the bed and took the padded cuffs off her. 

“How fitting,” Dean smirked like she was part of some joke she didn’t get. As she sat up on the bed, he handed her a brown paper bag. “I want you to take these to make sure.” He cryptically told her. 

Natasha could see the bag was from the pharmacy. Perhaps it was some pills for nausea or something. She opened it and looked down. Her jaw dropped as the shock reverberated through her. 

In the bag was three pregnancy tests. 

She didn’t notice the tear running down her cheek before Dean wiped it away. She was too shocked to even flinch or move away from his touch. 

Without a word, she stood up and hurried to the bathroom where she slammed the door. Her nausea could be caused by pregnancy. Nausea caused by pregnancy didn’t just occur in the morning. It could come any hour of the day. 

In her shocked state, she had forgotten how much she actually needed to pee. She ripped the packaging off one of the tests and sat down to pee on it. 

Quickly, she read through the manual. She had to wait three minutes for the results. 

It was the three longest minutes of her life. Her mind spun with thoughts. She had lost track of time and the days here in her little personal hell-bubble. It had been three days since her birthday, meaning it was September 23. She was late. Her period was late. She was supposed to get it on the 21st. 

Her breathing accelerated. 

No, wait… she had suddenly and unexpectedly stopped her birth control. Her birth control also had a say on her period. The fact that she hadn't gotten them could have fucked up her period. Yeah, that had to be it. 

Please be food poisoning. Please just let me be sick. Please be food poisoning. Please just let me be sick. Never in her life had she hoped or begged that she was sick, but she did now. She begged repeatedly in her mind while also counting at the back of her head to 180 – three minutes. 

She prayed deeply, hoping, and begging to herself that the test would show up negative. 

177, 178, 179, 180. Her breath stilled and first now, she noticed that more tears had joined the first one Dean had wiped away. Her heart was pounding so loud, she could hear her pulse in her ears. Actually, that was the only thing she could hear along with a high-pitched ringing. 

“Please be negative. Please be negative.” She whispered almost inaudibly as she slowly got up from the floor and looked at the test. 

Two pink lines. 

Positive.

A sob escaped her before she could cover her mouth. This can’t be. The test can’t be right. She remembered hearing something about these tests could show a false positive. Or was it a false negative? She couldn’t remember and she couldn’t gather her thoughts long enough to try. 

Luckily, there were two more. 

Her breathing and heart rate had accelerated beyond what she could control. While she unpacked the second pregnancy test, her hands shook so much she dropped it several times. 

Water. She needed to drink some water so she could pee some more. But with all the water she drank this morning, it didn’t take many minutes before she was able to squeeze out enough to cover the stick. 

Her heart thudded so fast and loud against her ribcage, it was difficult to count while she waited. 

It had to be food poisoning or a stomach virus. Again, she prayed like her life was on the line for the test to be negative. The tears flowed noiselessly but relentlessly down her face. 

Holding her breath, she looked at the second pregnancy test. 

Two pink lines.

Positive. 

“No, no, no…” She whispered choked. Taking the last test out of the paper bag, she swallowed thickly as she looked at it. She was down to the last one and out of hope. But a part of her wouldn’t give up the hope completely. 

Putting her head under the tap, she drank until her stomach was so full it nearly hurt. She tried to breathe through her nose, but the panic was rising fast inside her. Sitting on the toilet, she forced herself to pee just enough to wet the stick. 

While she waited, her hands shook so violently she had to bury them in her armpits. Again, she failed to breathe through her nose to get her breathing under control. Finally, the three minutes were up. She had to seek support on the sink when she got up.

Two pink lines.

Positive. 

Her heart sank so deep she couldn’t feel it galloping like a racehorse anymore. The lump in her throat was so big her breathing stilled for several seconds and it wasn’t until her lungs screamed for air she remembered to breathe again. The three tests lying on the sink got blurry as her eyes filled with a new wave of tears. 

She shook her head more and more like she could deny the evidence in front of her. The panic rose and nearly strangled her from the inside out, filling her with devastation and defeat. Her breathing had transformed into gasping sobs. 

“No!” She screamed hysterically and threw the tests across the room. When they landed on the floor in the shower, she crawled over to pick them up, only to throw them as hard as she could into the trash. 

She ripped the leaflet out of one of the empty packages and read through it as fast as she could to try to find a way out, a false positive or something like that.

“No, no, no, no…” She whispered full of panic when she read that the accuracy was more than 99% and that there was only a chance of false result if it says ‘not pregnant,’ or if she had recently been pregnant even without carrying to term or approaching menopause it could show a false positive. 

Obviously, neither of those options applied to her. 

“This can't be happening. This can't be happening. This _cannot_ be happening.” Natasha chanted under her breath like she could make it go away by the power of will. Her breathing neared hyperventilation. She was getting dizzy and her fingertips prickled. Inside her, she felt her heart being ripped in pieces. 

A knock on the door made her jolt. “Are you okay in there?” Dean asked. 

Oh, no, she was far from okay. So far from it, she didn’t even know if she would ever be okay again. 

“Are you done or what?” Dean asked when he didn’t receive an answer. A moment later, the door opened a little. 

Natasha flung herself at the door, making it slam shut, while she screamed hysterically, “Don’t come in here!” She had barely had time to process it and she wanted to hide like she could make it go away if she put her entire life on pause. Just staying in the bathroom and never come out. Deny the natural flow of time. 

She entered a vortex of distraught. Spinning and tumbling towards something horrible. 

“I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do this.” She chanted while her fingers ran up into her hair and clutched around it, pulling in it, and squeezed her eyes shut. One sob escaped her, then the next followed and before she knew it, she was sitting on the floor sobbing completely heartbroken. 

At some point, she started rocking back and forth in a failed attempt to comfort herself. Her behind hurt when she did it, but right now, that pain was nothing compared to the one on the inside. 

For the first time, she looked down on her stomach as she untangled her hands from her hair. She was carrying a demon spawn. No, there couldn’t be anything in there. It didn’t felt like something was in there. It couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t! It was like her mind refused to process it, but deep in her heart she knew the truth and it devastated her.

All hope had forsaken her and now she was falling, spiraling, into a deep dark web of despair and depression. 

She sat there sobbing, wailing loudly like a child. “This can't be happening. It can't be real. This can't be happening.” She cried with her hands helplessly flung out as she looked down at her stomach. 

She had to escape. _She had to!_ Escape so she could get an abortion, and get rid of it. Kill it! Since she tried to escape last time and Dean had beaten her, she hadn't dared or had the energy to think or figure out a new escape plan, but now her mind spun with different scenarios. Dean still carried the taser in his back pocket, even now where he let her walk around without handcuffs when he was home. She had to get it. She couldn’t stay here and let that _thing_ grow inside her. Then the question hit her like a mallet. How far along was she? How long had Dean held her captive? She didn’t know. It was impossible to keep track of the days. 

Lifting the oversized flannel shirt, her hands explored and pressed on her lower abdomen. She couldn’t feel anything. She pressed harder until it hurt, but she still couldn’t feel anything. In frustration and desperation, she scratched herself like she could scratch her way into it and strangle it with her own hands. 

A knock on the door made her twitch so violently, she banged her head into the wall she was sitting against. Stopping her nails just in time before they drew blood on her. 

“Go away.” She sobbed. 

“Don’t you wanna come out and get some dinner?” He asked harshly. 

“Go away!” She screamed. 

Then the door opened, but before he had opened it much more than a couple of inches she flung herself against the door to slam it shut. “Don’t come in here! Don’t come in here!” She screamed hysterically. 

Dean put his foot down and held the door five inches open while she banged and pushed on it, but now she couldn’t move it or him. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, relax, you crazy bitch! I just wanted to give you these.” Dean snarled and threw something through the door crack. The resistance Dean had put on the door to keep it open disappeared and Natasha flew forward as a result of her continuing hitting and banging. The missing resistance made her head bang into the wood as the door slammed. 

Her fist hit the door a couple of more times before she slid to the floor and huddled together in fetal position. Next to her was the things Dean had thrown in there. It was two drinking yogurts. But her appetite had vanished. She never thought she would eat a bite ever again. 

How long had she stayed in here? An hour? Two? She didn’t know. To her, it was like the time stood still. That dinner was ready didn’t give her a hint on what time it was. Dinner could be served everything between 6 and 9 p.m. 

For a long time, she just stared blindly at the wall while the tears flowed like a waterfall over her face. 

Would it make her sick? Would it infect her and make her like him? Would _it_ be like him? Would this be like a normal pregnancy? How long would it stay in there? How fast would it grow? Would it rip its way out of her like that movie Aliens or be born normally? She didn’t intend to find out. Because she was going to escape and get it out of her body! 

It knocked on the door. This time, she didn’t move a muscle. It was like she couldn’t. Her body wouldn’t respond to what her mind was trying to tell it. She wanted to sit up and get ready to slam the door, but nothing happened. 

“Natasha? It’s bedtime.” Dean’s voice was stern. She heard him sigh when she didn’t answer. 

She couldn’t face him. She couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t face the world right now. She just wanted to be absorbed in a time pocket where everything would stay still. 

“Come on. Come out of there and get to bed.” His tone was milder now as if he wanted to convince her instead of just ordering her around. It puzzled her that he didn’t just open the door and dragged her to bed against her will. 

“If you wanna stay in there all night, fine. But then I’m locking the door.” He sounded resigned but made it sound like a warning or a threat anyway. 

“Last chance.” He said. Then a couple of seconds passed and she heard the lock click. 

She breathed a sigh of relief through her soft sobbing. He left her be. Thank god. Under her head was a whole lake forming from all the tears that never seemed to stop. The tile floor felt cold against her cheek and soon, the coldness seeped through her clothes. Cooling her skin deeper and deeper until it reached her heart. 

The sobs shook through her and all her muscles trembled from the cold and the shock that was settling in her. A splitting headache invaded her and the blood pounded profoundly under the skin on her forehead where she bumped her head. 

Her life had been hell since she met Dean. He was the one that had done this to her. He was mean and cruel. Sadistic. He held her captive against her will like she was a pet. He abused her physically and mentally, beat her, humiliated her, raped her, and starved her sometimes too. She hated him! Her jaw clenched in anger. She hated him.

Even though it had been hours, the tears had never stopped. She hadn't cried a river. She had cried an entire ocean. Gathering herself, she raised herself from the floor. “I hate you.” She whispered. The anger ignited deep in her and gave her strength. “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you!” Natasha said louder and louder. Her voice gaining more strength for every word as she stood up. 

“You’re mean! You’re cruel! I hate you! I hope you die!” She started shouting and hammered on the door. The mental breakdown that had been brewing right under the surface now broke free and transformed into a hysterical collapse.

“I hate you! I hate you! You’re a monster! I’m gonna kill you! You hear me, asshole!? I hate you! You’re a sadistic rapist! And a fucking asshole! I hate you! You don’t deserve to live! I hope you rot in hell! Fuck back to where you belong! You’re a demon! Fuck back to hell, you monster! I hate you! I hate you and your demon spawn! I’m not letting you do this to me! I’m gonna kill you! You’re a fucking asshole! Asshole! I’m not a pet! You get some sick joy out of this or what!? You’re sick! You’re fucking sick in your head! Fucking pervert! What the fuck is wrong with you!? I hate you! I hate you! I FUCKING HATE YOU!” She screamed hysterically and banged on the door until her hands were red and hurting. But that didn’t stop her. She kept going and a numbness started to spread in her hands from the ongoing hitting. Her throat was rasping from all the crying and screaming, but she was so pissed and filled with hatred towards him. 

Suddenly, the door simultaneously got unlocked and kicked open with such a force, Natasha flew back and landed on her ass with a yelp in the middle of the bathroom. “Okay, that’s enough!” Dean came barging in and thundered while pointing at her as he towered over her as she sat there on her butt, propped up by her hands. His jaw was clenched and his upper lip raised in contempt as he looked down on her with darkened eyes. He was only wearing boxers as he came directly from the bedroom. It was in the middle of the night. 

“I’ve allowed your fucking crazy behavior all day and all night, but it’s gotta stop now! You are gonna calm the fuck down right now or I’m finding the belt. So turn down the crazy or your ass gets it! Understood?” He yelled furiously. 

Natasha glared hatefully at him with the most spiteful eyes she had ever mustered. Never had she hated somebody so much as he hated Dean. 

“Is that understood!?” He yelled so loud it hurt her ears and his eyes turned black. Against her will, she flinched. 

“Yes.” She hissed out through clenched teeth. Her glare was heavy with loathing towards him. Dean glared back at her for several seconds before he marched out of the bathroom and slammed the door after him. A little click indicated that he locked the door again. 

Natasha had clenched her teeth so hard her jaw started to hurt. Her lower lip quivered as she felt another round of mournful wailing pressing to overwhelm her. After getting thrown to the floor like that, her behind hurt more than she could ignore. A choked sob escaped her before they spilled out of her and the tears flowed with renewed force. 

After half an hour, Natasha slowly undressed and crawled into the shower where she huddled together, cradled herself and let the hot water pour down over her.

No matter how long she sat under the hot water, rocking back and forth, the heat couldn’t warm her into her core that remained cold.


	12. Chapter 12

Dean was exceedingly tired when he woke up. He could thank Natasha and her craziness for that. She really dropped the cookies big time last night. 

With his right hand, he rubbed his eyes and then pinched the bridge of his nose as he sighed. She had looked like a fucking lunatic on coke when he told her to turn down the crazy at two in the morning. All her hysterical screaming had woke him. He hoped her craziness had passed by now because that was just fucking annoying to look at. And listen to. 

He grabbed his phone and dialed ‘666.’

“I’m staying home. I’m gonna take care of those Abaddon groupies you found tomorrow.” Dean said before Crowley could say a word when he picked up. 

“Trouble with the toy? Or are you just staying home so you can cuddle up on the couch with her?” Crowley chuckled but Dean could hear the offend in his voice. 

“That’s enough, Crowley. I don’t work _for_ you. I work _with_ you. And if you don’t come down from that mile-high horse soon, I’m gonna kick your ass. I’ve done it before. Remember? But this time, I’m gonna make _you_ work for _me_. Are we clear?” Dean’s voice was eerily calm. 

“My apologies. Have a nice day off.” Crowley said full of sarcasm before he hung up. 

“Well, fuck you too,” Dean mumbled as he looked at his phone. He would deal with Crowley at another time. 

He got up and got dressed. The first thing he noticed when he walked out of the bedroom was the water running in the bathroom. She was taking a shower. Well, fine. He unlocked the door with more force than needed so she would hear it over the running water and then knocked on the door. “Natasha?” He waited a little, but she didn’t answer. “Natasha? Come on, get out of there.” He tried a little louder, but he still got no answer. 

“Suit yourself.” He mumbled annoyed. If she wanted to stay in there, fine. Then her craziness would at least be contained.

 

He had eaten his breakfast and drunk his coffee and was now checking the news on his phone when the door to the bathroom opened. A cloud of steam drifted into the living room as she stepped out. She was only wearing panties and his flannel shirt when she walked right past him to the bedroom like he wasn’t even there. Her eyes were red and swollen, but other than that, her face was expressionless. 

He got up and peeked into the bedroom. She had laid down on the bed with her back towards him and the duvet pulled up, so a mane of brown hair was all he could see. He shook his head at her. Why was she always so difficult?

Then he walked to the bathroom. He couldn’t immediately spot the tests anywhere. Though her behavior should have been answer enough for him, he had to see it with his own eyes. 

He found all three of them in the trash. 

Positive. Positive. Positive. 

“Oh, well, shit…” He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose after staring flabbergasted at the tests for at least half a minute. He really hadn't thought this through. When he had threatened with knocking her up, he had just done it out of spite. To see her scared and suffer. But now where she actually was knocked up… he hadn't thought it through. It would be a lot more work than he would have thought. At least he didn’t think he’d have to deal with it so soon. How did she get knocked up so fast? You know what? It didn’t matter. She had a bun in the oven and that was that. He just had to deal with it. 

He didn’t know how he felt about it. It confused him. He couldn’t imagine a toddler running around. Or imagine her all fat and pregnant, puking all over the place and get all hormonal. 

As he said, a lot more work than he had anticipated. Like there wasn’t enough work with her as it was already. He sighed again. 

Maybe he should just put it down after a while before it comes out. Or maybe it would work out by itself. He didn’t even know if demons could have kids. Well, they could apparently. But he wasn’t like other demons. This wasn’t a body he had possessed. It was his own body. But maybe the fetus wouldn’t be compatible with her body and she would have a miscarriage. 

If it turned out to be too much work, he could always put it down while it was still in there. For now, he would just let it stay. 

A pang of guilt ran through him like it had done yesterday when he thought about her face as she walked to the bedroom. This time it was just stronger. He liked seeing her scared, humiliated, and in pain, but now she was just like a zombie. And that was just depressing to look at. He was sure she was too stubborn to let him demand that she threw that zombie façade out the window. 

She was a stubborn and defiant little creature. Maybe she was smarter than he gave her credit for. And she was beautiful…

 _This is too far. Even for you._ Something whispered deep inside of him. Was this too cruel? He swallowed thickly before shoving the guilt and horrible feeling away. Far away where he put a lid on it. And a padlock. 

Well, he didn’t want to look at a depressing zombie, so he decided he had to do something about it. He just didn’t know what. Give her more ice cream? No, he bet she wouldn’t eat. The two drinking yogurts lying in the bathroom were untouched. Let her watch TV? Well, he often let her do that, so that wouldn’t be special. 

He thought about calling Crowley to help, but then remembered what an asshole he had been earlier. His teeth clenched just by thinking about it. 

Dean leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. Tipping his head back, he sighed as he tried to think. 

After ten minutes, there was only one thing he could come up with that might work. 

 

Her anger had cooled below the freezing point. All the strength the anger had given her had punctured like a balloon and left her tired and shattered. At some point, her tears had stopped, leaving her hollow and empty. Like her entire body and mind was numb, all she could do was lay there in bed and stare blindly ahead of herself. 

She heard Dean’s footsteps as he neared the bed. 

“Please go away.” She whispered so low she doubted that he heard her. He lifted her duvet and she wanted to protest, but she just felt so tired. 

He laid down behind her under the duvet and snuggled closer as he laid his arm around her. Again, she wanted to protest or resist, but nothing happened. His denim jeans felt rough against her behind. 

When she had finally pulled herself up from the floor in the shower, she had washed herself and scrubbed so hard between her legs and on her behind that her skin was all red and tender like she had a rash. In her determination to scrub him off of her, she had almost scrubbed all the skin off. 

She could feel his breath on her neck. “Shh, it’s gonna be okay.” He hushed and held her tighter. 

Natasha didn’t know how long they laid there spooning. Dean kissed her neck now and then and let his nose run over her skin. She got goosebumps and it felt like she shuddered on the inside, but she couldn’t on the outside, physically. 

She couldn’t fall asleep even though that was what she wanted the most right now. Just sleep and escape this living nightmare. But she just stared at the wall. 

Dean was warm, but his body heat couldn’t warm her. After some time, his right hand snuck under the flannel shirt and laid on her lower abdomen. She could just gather enough strength to push it away and to her surprise, he let her. 

Now and then, it sounded like Dean dozed off behind her and she actually envied him. She wished she could escape the reality by fleeing into sleep. 

“Come on, let’s get something to eat,” Dean said after a long time, kissed her cheek, and got up. 

Reluctantly she sat up on the edge of the bed and saw it was already 7 p.m... Had she really laid there for over twelve hours? Apparently. 

When she sat down on one of the chairs around the round dining table, she winced and inhaled sharply. Her behind was tender and sore after she scrubbed so hard on it. At the time she did it, it had felt good. Like she could physically scrape him off her and she didn’t regret it for a second. 

“Here, drink this and take these.” He said softly as he handed her one of the drinking yogurts and a couple of aspirins. Her stomach clenched, but her appetite was lacking behind. She actually had a headache, but she just hadn't noticed until now. 

“You have to eat,” Dean said more firmly. With a sigh, she screwed off the cap, put the pills in her mouth, and took a sip. The blueberry taste exploded in her mouth and she could feel it travel all the way to her stomach where it heavily laid at the bottom. 

She was about to screw the cap on when Dean grabbed her wrist with the cap. “All of it.” He grumbled and looked pointedly at her, the drinking yogurt and back again. 

Dean didn’t let her wrist go before she put the drinking yogurt to her lips. 

“It’s gonna be okay.” He said, his voice was soft again as he stroked her cheek before going to the kitchen. 

Already after two sips, her stomach felt full, but she dutifully kept drinking until it was empty twenty minutes later. In the meantime, Dean had sat down at the table with a sandwich. 

 

At night, she felt her strength slowly gather at her core. Dean had been so nice today. Almost like he was truly worried about her. Though she doubted his feelings reached particularly deep. 

Eating something had strengthened her and she already felt much better even though that demon spawn still resided inside her. A plan started to form in her head while she laid awake long after Dean was asleep. 

 

Dean sighed to himself. It had been three days since he found the pregnancy tests in the trash and she still wasn’t better. She was nearly catatonic and constantly laid in bed, unresponsive most of the time. He forced her to get up at breakfast and dinner, but she played more with her food than eating it. Her head always bowed and her gaze at the floor. She hardly said anything either. She had gone from one extreme to the other. Why couldn’t she be somewhere in between instead? Find a balance? This was driving him crazy.

Two times, she had run to the bathroom to puke, and that was the fastest he had seen her move. 

Was she… depressed? Or was the baby doing this to her? Was it incompatible with her body? He didn’t know. One thing he did know for sure was that seeing her like this affected him more than he cared for. More than he ever thought anything could now where he was a demon. 

Was Crowley right when he said he was going soft? He didn’t know. It confused him and angered him. But every time he was about to take his anger and annoyance out on her, he felt a twinge of… something… inside of him, and it stopped him from taking it out on her.

He longed to fuck her. Actually, he really needed it soon, but something held him back from that too. A few times, he had considered going out and find another slut. Just for one night. But he would much rather just have Nat. He wouldn’t find as good an ass as hers anyway and then he would just get frustrated and pissed and probably just kill the random girl he would find and then still be craving. By now, he was used to Nat’s ass. It was so good. He didn’t want others. It was like tasting the finest wine and then go back to cheap box wine. 

He sighed. When he first saw her on that dance floor, he didn’t know it would have brought him to this. This mess. 

Though he had seen the positive pregnancy tests, he still had a hard time wrapping his head properly around the thought. That day where he had spooned with her all day, he had laid his hand on her stomach shortly before she had removed it and he hadn't felt anything. He was a little ambivalent. Didn’t know if he should get rid of it or not in a few months before it was born. 

One thing did he know. If it wasn’t compatible with her body, it was going out of her. It would be a waste of a good ass if it killed her. Maybe there was more to it than her ass? He didn’t know and he pushed it far away before he could find the answer. 

He had just cleaned up after dinner when Natasha walked over to him. Her head bowed and her gaze directed at the floor. Curious to what she might want, he turned to face her. It wasn’t like her to come to him like that. Especially not in the last couple of days. 

As he turned around, she pressed herself against his chest like a child seeking comfort. A little bewildered Dean just looked down on her. The oversized flannel she was wearing strengthened the perception of her being like a child. It stopped at the beginning of her thighs, and the sleeves were so long, her hands were hidden. 

Her cheek was pressed against the upper part of his chest and the beginning of his shoulder. Then he put his arms around her and she sighed. This actually… this actually felt… nice. Good. To his own surprise. His arms protectively held her closer, pressed her head against him as he rested his chin on top of it. Nat wrapped her arms around his waist. He suppressed a shudder as he closed his eyes. 

Dean only felt the taser leave his back pocket a second before a sharp pain shot through him from his lower back, forcing him to his knees with a groan as Natasha took a step back. He barely managed to look up at her before she put the taser to his chest, bringing him completely to the floor. Her face was filled with a resentful expression full of determination. 

With the powerful electric current traveling through him, all that pent-up anger, frustration, and annoyance got unleashed. The pain made him see red.


	13. A Fight For Liberty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are killing me. My laptop's been on fire and probably need a new keyboard. My fingertips are calloused - No shit, I literally have calloused skin on my index fingers and middle fingers. But I hope you're glad that I managed to finish the next chapter this fast. (I also edited a little in the original plan for this chapter. I had planned it to be much longer, but stopped it sooner so you could have it sooner ;-) But don't worry. You're not missing anything. The rest will just continue in the next chapter :-D ) Though focusing on this chapter might affect the release dates on my ongoing/WIP stories next week.  
> I hope you're happy now :-P  
> But really, who am I to complain ? I have a bunch of wonderful loyal readers. Thank you, guys, for pressing me and make sure I get off my ass. I love you <3 XD

Natasha kept the taser pressed against his chest when he laid on the floor as she reveled in the pain it caused him. She could see he was beyond furious, but just for a few seconds, she needed to just keep holding the taser on him to watch and enjoy how much pain it caused him. Now he was getting just an ounce of everything he had done to her. 

When a deeply hidden hateful and sadistic side of her was satisfied, she reached into his pocket for the key to the front door. He was gritting his teeth so hard she thought he would break a tooth. His entire body was stiff as he groaned in pain. The taser still on him. She knew how much it hurt. Dean had tased her twice. 

“Fuck you!” She spat in his face and ran. She threw the taser across the room on the way to the front door, so he wouldn’t pick it up right away when he pursued her. 

She couldn’t believe her plan had worked. 

Her hands shook so much when she tried to unlock the front door that she dropped the key. “Shit, shit, shit…” She hissed panicky. Her heart was thudding too quickly to count and her breathing accelerated. Focusing completely on the key and the door without looking back to see if Dean was about to recover from her attack. 

Finally, she got that stupid door unlocked and ran out into the open. As she ran past the car, she, by a sudden impulse, tugged at the door handle on the driver’s side, but it was locked. Quickly, she continued to run for her life. Her throat was already dry from nearly hyperventilating and her heart beat so fast her chest hurt, but she didn’t slow down for a second as she ran down the gravel driveway. The gravel hurt her feet as she was only wearing socks, but she didn’t care. This was a matter of life and death. 

The sound of another pair of feet in the gravel made her give a scream as she sprinted faster. They came closer and closer. This time, she wasn’t going to look back and risk falling again, but she could hear he was faster than she was. It was only a matter of time before he had caught up with her. Along the driveway was big oak trees planted on each side with the same distance of about ten yards. She tried to spot something she could use as a weapon. A fallen branch or a rock. 

His running footsteps was getting closer and she let out another panicky scream as she fought the urge to look back. 

There! Behind the next tree was a fallen branch big enough to use as a weapon. It was at least four inches wide and a yard long. 

Skidding to a halt so abruptly she nearly fell, Natasha grabbed the branch and swung it through the air like a sword. Dean had just caught up with her and it was at the last second, she had flung it towards him with a strained groan. But he was faster than her and grabbed the branch before it could hit him and snapped it in half. She let out a panicky and fearful scream as she was confronted with him. 

Now Natasha was left with only a twenty-inch branch. Not long enough to swing it at him again, so instead she used the end to hit him in the stomach, causing him to be incapacitated for at least a few seconds as he bent over. 

She threw the branch to the side as she turned around to run when something grabbed onto her hair and yanked her back with such a force, she fell to her back with a yelp. 

“Are you trying to get a rise out of me?” He yelled as his face blocked her sight to the skies as she was still on her back. Dean was panting heavily, both from the chase and because of his rage. 

Still, with a grip on her hair, he began dragging her back to the house. She felt several hairs being pulled out as she kicked, screamed, and scratched his hand to let her go. The gravel hurt her back as he dragged away with her. 

“Let me go! Let go of me! Stop! Don’t take me back there!” She cried loudly. 

After a couple of yards, he stopped and threw her in front of him. She landed on her back with a gasp, as he yelled, “Do you ever think you’ll get out of here alive?” Then he grabbed onto her again before she could get away, but now he dragged her back by her upper arm as he marched back to the house. Natasha tried to dig in her heels, but he barely noticed. The tears of fear and panic were flowing down her cheeks as she fought to free herself. She remembered far too well, what happened last time she failed to escape. “Please don’t hurt me! Please don’t hurt me!” She begged in between her whimpers, but he ignored her. 

Again after a couple of yards, he stopped to throw her in front of him, so he could yell some more at her while she crawled backward, but not fast enough to get out of his reach. “I heal _instantly_ , you stupid bitch!”

Now he dragged away with her by her ankle, too scared to do anything but sob. The terror was nearly strangling her as it wrapped tighter and tighter around her the closer they got to the house. His hand tightened so hard around her, she was sure she would get bruises. 

He threw her to the ground in front of him again, “What do you think you can do to me? Hmm?”

Another couple of yards, “Nothing I haven’t already experience in my time in hell! And what do you think I can do to you? A lot of fucking things!”

Her sobbing got a hysterical note to it as her back was scraped more and more and when he lifted her from the ground to throw her in front of him, she tumbled defenselessly to the ground as he, blind with rage, yelled. She was so scared she could hardly breathe and her entire body shook like an addict being deprived his drug for too long. 

Halfway back to the house, “If you haven’t noticed yet, I’m fucking creative when it comes to making you suffer!”

Three more yards, Natasha was sobbing and yelping as he threw her to the ground in front of him again. Bracing herself as much as she could, she scraped the heels of her hands, and the bandage around her right hand get wet as the wound on her palm sprung open. The gravel made holes in her pants on her knees and she scraped them too. “Just look down at yourself! Right now, I’m inside you! You’re carrying a piece of me in there!” He pointed mockingly at her stomach before grabbing onto her hair to drag her back. Every time he latched onto her again, she let out a scream of fright. 

Almost back at the house, “And if you continue to hate it as you have made it so obvious you do already, then you’re gonna carry to term! If you, on the other hand, turn out to be fucking twisted in your head and start loving that thing in there, then I’m gonna fucking kill it while it’s still inside you!” 

He dragged her inside and kicked her ribs, making her roll into the living room. 

_Please beat me enough to kill that thing inside of me! Please beat me enough to kill that thing inside of me!_ She silently begged.

Dean slammed the door so hard, Natasha jolted three feet from the floor with a scream. All hope was lost now. She was back in her prison and she was terrified of what he would do to her. Unconsciously her right hand wandered down to lay over her stomach as she laid there on her back that was scraped by the gravel. She was propped up on her elbows as she hastily crawled backward. 

After locking the door, Dean marched over to her and yelled, “Do you get that? No matter what you do, you can’t win over me!” He pulled his right hand back and slapped her so hard she fell to her side where she curled up in fetal position, trying to protect herself and covered her head with her left arm as she trembled and sobbed. He was right. She couldn’t win unless she escaped but her attempts kept failing and she felt so powerless. 

“You think you have something to wail about? I’ll give you something to wail about, you little skank! The belt is coming off!” Dean thundered as he grabbed onto her left upper arm and started dragging her towards the bedroom. 

A hysterical scream left Natasha’s lips as he grabbed her. “No! No! No! No! No!” She screamed as she, with everything in her, tried to resist her fate. She even latched onto the doorframe to the bedroom, but Dean yanked so hard on her arm, she thought he would dislocate her shoulder. She lost her grip on the doorframe and hammered into his leg. 

Natasha heard the belt buckle jingle as he swiftly unbuckled it and pulled it out of the loops.

“Don’t hurt me, Dean. Please, don’t hurt me! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” She cried, but again he ignored her. He dragged her with him to the bed where he sat down. His arms wrapped around her waist and lifted her over his knee. In one motion, he ripped both her pants and panties down, but then froze still with a grip of her clothes. 

“Why does your ass look like that?” He asked acerbically. 

Though it was a couple of days ago, it still looked like she had a rash on her behind and between her legs after she scrubbed herself so hard in an attempt to scrub him off of her. 

“Answer me!” He yelled as he gave her a spank with the belt, making her cry out. It stung and prickled across her ass where the leather had hit her skin and she could almost feel how it got redder and redder. 

When she didn’t answer him, Dean grabbed her hair, ripped her head back in a painful position that made her yelp, and snarled, “If you don’t answer right now, I’m gonna double the count with the belt.” 

“Because I wanted to scrub you off of me,” Natasha whispered tearfully. Afraid of doing anything else than what he said. She didn’t know how many spanks she was going to receive with the belt as it was, but whatever the number was, she would do anything to keep it at a minimum. 

“Speak up!” Dean yelled and the belt fell on her already tender skin again. 

“Because I wanted to scrub you off of me-e-e!” Natasha screamed and then sobbed so the last vowel was drawn out. 

Dean let out a snort when he let go of her hair and then she heard him pull something out from under the bed, when she tried to twist to see what it was, Dean’s left forearm pressed on her back and his elbow hammered into the back of her head to keep her down. Her anxiousness grew by the second. 

Without mercy, he shoved a dildo up her ass with a grunt. Natasha let out an ear-splitting scream as the pain tore through her. She twisted and turned to get away from him, but he held her in place. She felt the straps getting fastened to the dildo and then he led them around her thighs and tightened to keep it in. 

The first spank from the belt landed on her ass with a loud _smack_. Hitting right on top of the dildo, making it twitch sharply inside her, and Natasha let out another ear-splitting scream as her whole body jolted. 

“Count!” Dean thundered so loud she jolted again. 

“One!” She sobbed. It already felt like she was skinned. 

With a grunt, Dean whipped her with the belt, again hitting the base of the dildo perfectly. 

“Ow! Ow! Two!” Natasha sobbed without a stop, making her words close to unintelligible. 

The belt landed mercilessly on her ass a third time, hitting exactly the same place as the last two. 

“Thre-e-e…” Natasha sobbed inconsolably after her scream of pain. 

The belt bit her tender skin again. “Four!” It felt a hundred times worse than last time he had attacked her with the belt. Her skin was red and sore, and then there was the dildo impaling her ass. It was so big that that was what it felt like.

The next slap was the hardest one and her scream continued for so long, she was afraid he would punish her even more by her fail to count immediately. “Five…” She finally sobbed. Her behind felt skinned and raw and the inside of her ass hurt so much it felt like he had raped her several times. 

To her relief, no more spanks came. Her face was red and her body sweating from all the crying and pain he had caused her. The fact that she didn’t receive more spanks alarmed her. Last time he had spanked her ten times with his hand and ten times with the belt and then raped her. If she only got five spanks besides the two first that meant something worse was coming. He wouldn’t limit her punishment to only seven spanks in total even though he had brutally shoved a dildo up her ass. 

His hands grabbed the hem of her pants and panties and tugged in them to get them further down. Now when he was unable to hold her upper body down, she fought to keep them up. In her struggling, her upper body landed on the floor with a thud as Dean ripped them the last way off her, and her legs fell to the floor too. 

“No… No…” She sobbed as she tried crawling away from him. 

“I am not fucking done with you, you little skank!” Dean yelled as he grabbed her midsection and threw her on the bed. Natasha yelped as she landed on her back. Her ass hurt and the dildo was still inside her. In an instant, he was on top of her, grabbing her knees and harshly spread her legs where he laid down and ripped the oversized flannel open so the buttons flew everywhere. 

“No! Stop! Don’t do this! Please! Don’t hurt me! Please…” She sobbed helplessly as he brutally ripped the flannel off her, leaving her naked. His left hand wrapped around her throat and with a steel grip, he silenced her as he held her down while he opened his jeans and pulled them and his boxers down. 

Her nails scratched on his hand to try to remove it as she was getting dizzy and needed air, but she couldn’t move him an inch. Dean hammered into her folds. Her mouth opened wide for a scream, but nothing came over her lips. His dick was widening her so much it hurt and pressed painfully against the dildo in her ass. 

“Is this what you want?” He snarled through clenched teeth as he started thrusting viciously into her. He let go of her throat only to slap her so hard it rang through her skull. “Is this what you fucking want?” Dean snarled and slapped her again.

“No! No, it’s not! No, it’s not!” She sobbingly screamed. 

“Then stop pissing me off!” He nearly screamed at her and was now thrusting more savagely into her. Adding more painful pressure on the dildo in her ass. Both his hands closed around her throat. With stretched arms, a lot of his weight rested down on her throat, pressing on her trachea, but also keeping her from bouncing up and down from his fierce thrusting, making it feel harder and more barbarously. “I’m gonna come so hard this time! It’s been too fucking long since I fired this gun. All because of you, you fucking skank!” He snarled full of scorn. His member continued to hit her cervix, but it felt more like he was thrusting all the way into her stomach. Dean furiously panted through his clenched teeth and his upper lip raised in contempt.

Natasha got dizzy at the lack of air and blood flow and soon dark spots covered her vision. The tears kept flowing silently down her cheeks. It felt like the sheets rasped against her scraped back and hurting ass. 

_Please don’t hurt it! Please don’t hurt it!_ Something inside her whispered and for a moment, Natasha herself get so surprised, she stopped fighting for a couple of seconds. 

Now her sight was completely black and she felt how the strength of her resistance slowly ceased as she nearly lost control of her body. 

Dean let go with only seconds from her passing out and slapped her instantly, making her deep whining breath and coughing stop abruptly before it continued. 

_Please beat me enough to kill that thing inside of me! Please beat me enough to kill that thing inside of me!_ She silently begged as she had earlier when he kicked her inside the house. Her thoughts kept jumping from one extreme to another. Even Natasha herself couldn’t find heads or tails in her conflicting mind. She was split in two and soon Dean would physically split her in two as well if he continued this. 

As if he had heard her, he pulled out of her folds. Natasha barely had time to breathe a sigh of relief when he crawled up to sit astride her chest. He grabbed her hair with both his hands and ripped her head forward so hard, she let out a whine of pain. Her whine came to a stop when he shoved his dick deep into her mouth and started thrusting in the same vicious pace he had just fucked her pussy with. 

Natasha gagged around him as he repeatedly hit the back of her throat. His grip on her hair kept her head in the same place as his hips hammered his member in and out of her mouth while he grunted savagely. 

She could barely breathe as his dick several times a second blocked her airways and most of all she wanted to scream for him to stop. Her hands laid on his thighs and her nails dug deep into his skin, but she couldn’t stop him from going into her mouth. 

Just as Dean’s ferocious grunting increased and he was about to come, he pulled back and let go of her hair. His hand took over, grabbed tightly around his member, quickly moving over him a few times before he came and released all over her with several loud groans. The first splatter landed on her face. Natasha was still pulling in deep loud breaths and she got some of his warm load in her mouth. The next hit her collarbone and the rest splattered over her breasts as he had managed to pull farther back as he came. 

His hand squeezed the rest out of him and the last of his warm sticky load dropped down on her chest.

As she was busy pulling in deep breaths to get her oxygen levels back to normal, she couldn’t help but swallow and immediately she wanted to gag at the salty taste. But she had fortunately managed to close her eyes in time. 

“That’ll give you something to scrub off.” He growled tauntingly through clenched teeth. 

Dean crawled back up, gave her a slap that jerked her head to the side and she yelped before he grabbed onto her hair again. “Open up.” He demanded. 

Natasha whimpered but kept her lips closed. “Open your fucking mouth,” Dean growled low and threatening. The dangerous gleam in his eyes, made her obey him, and slowly she opened her mouth. 

He pushed his member into her mouth again and let out a raw moan, “Yeah, suck me clean.” He mocked. “And if you fucking bite me, I’ll give you twenty with the belt. Do you get that?” His tone was so filled with menace she didn’t even dare to try to push him back. 

Natasha didn’t answer, but he read her silence as she understood his threat. He didn’t push himself as fast or deep in as before, but she still gagged around him from the taste of his sperm. 

Finally, he pulled back and sat across her stomach after pulling his boxers and jeans up. Natasha was about to wipe his sperm off her when he grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the mattress. He gathered both her wrists in one of his hands and then he quickly grabbed a pair of regular handcuffs from the box on the floor and too easily cuffed her wrists and chained her to the headboard. 

What would he do now? She thought hopelessly and sobbed softly. 

Dean started smearing the sperm that had landed on her face all over her cheeks, lips, chin, and down her throat. 

“Look at you,” he mocked full of derision. “You’re disgusting.” His voice was full of revulsion. Dean spat on her and it hit her cheek. He smeared the spit over her face so it mixed with his sperm. 

She tried to throw him off her as he sat there straddling her stomach, but he was too heavy. Her wiggling and twisting were useless. 

“You’re a fucking disgusting whore. Look at you all spermed up. You’re so fucking filthy. You’re so nasty, I even feel dirty just by looking at you. You look like a slut that’s all used up.” He mocked patronizingly and moved down to smear the sperm over her throat and breasts. He spat on her again, this time he hit her left breast and continued to smudge his load on her. “Now you’ll have something to scrub off, you little cunt. You’re disgusting. And no, you’re not allowed to take a shower.” He chuckled cruelly without humor, so it sounded more like he let out a string of scoffs. The smirk on his face showed how much he enjoyed condescending and humiliating her. 

She felt just as disgusting as he said she was. His warm sticky load covered every inch of her front from her eyes and down under her breasts. Her sobbing increased as she felt powerless and repulsed. 

“Open your mouth,” Dean commanded and Natasha was afraid to do anything else than what he told her to. He pushed his fingers into her mouth and roughly stirred them, making her gag once again by the salty taste. Then he pulled back his fingers and wiped his palm on her lips so harshly it hurt. In the end, he wiped his hand in her long brown hair. 

“Now you can think about what you’ve done.” He grumbled as he lifted himself off her. As he stood up, he grabbed something from the box. When he straightened up, Natasha saw it was a dildo gag with a three-inch dildo. Immediately she turned her head away from him, but he grabbed her hair and forced her head back. She let out a whimper and Dean shoved the dildo gag into her mouth and fastened the leather straps behind her head. Natasha’s loud sobbing was muffled by the gag. 

“And wail all you want because I won’t hear you. I can't stand looking at such a disgusting whore.” Dean taunted and spit on her again as he leaned over her. “I’m going to work and in the meantime, you can think about what you’ve done.” He brutally took the pillows and duvets, then threw them to the floor before he ripped the sheet out from under her, so she was left naked on the black latex sheet. 

Dean turned off the lights, slammed the door, and locked it. He didn’t even take the dildo out of her ass before he left and it still widened her and hurt her. She could feel it for every sob.


	14. Chapter 14

It started to get cold and dry. It stuck to her skin as a stiff coat that itched. She felt it crackle as she moved, but it didn’t crumble off her, it just stuck to her. And there was a stiff clump in her hair where he had wiped his hand.

Natasha felt more filthy and dirty as the time passed. The latex sheet wasn’t much help with either getting his dried stiff load off her or keeping her warm. She felt utterly exposed lying there on the latex completely naked, even though it was pitch black. This time, Dean hadn't unplugged her clock, but she wished he would have done just that instead. 

It didn’t take long before she was starting to feel really cold. She curled herself up slowly as every movement painfully reminded her of the dildo in her rear. Her stream of tears and sobs had calmed and now she was only sniffing now and then. 

Natasha cursed herself for the failed attempt of escaping. Her plan with playing sad and submissive, so she wouldn’t pose a threat had worked perfectly until she realized how inadequate she was compared to Dean. She wasn’t fast enough or strong enough to escape him. But escaping had been her last hope of getting rid of the thing inside her. Unless Dean had beat her so much she would miscarriage. But as the hours passed, there was no sign of it. 

What had been going on in her head while he assaulted her still confused her. Natasha tried to push it aside, but with the many hours alone in darkness, she had to confront herself with it at some point. The more she tried to postpone thinking about it, the more it snuck back into her head like a creditor constantly knocking on your door. So she decided to take the bull by the horns and face her inner conflict. 

She remembered far too well the voice that had poked her unconsciousness at the back of her head with an insisting voice that had whispered, _“Protect your stomach. Protect your stomach.”_ Then a part of her had screamed, _“Please don't hurt it!”_ And another part had equally screamed, _“Please beat me enough to kill that thing inside of me!”_

It was so confusing. 

The rational part of her that still possessed an ounce of common sense begged that he had beat her enough to kill the thing inside of her. But as the hours passed, there was no blood or any pain in her lower abdomen. She didn’t have a miscarriage. But another smaller part of her was relieved that this didn’t happen. 

After speculating about this for hours without finding any useable answers to try to distract herself from the cold and the dried sperm she was covered in, she realized her maternal instinct had been woken. And it was that instinct that did everything to try to protect it. She couldn’t help but wonder if it would be like him. And if it wasn’t in its nature, she was afraid Dean’s presence would still affect it. 

Though that was so far into the future, it felt like it would be decades before it would come. And Natasha couldn’t stand this for so long. 

The part that wanted to get rid of that thing inside of her was bigger and got the upper hand. She needed to get an abortion! Her attempt of escape had failed, taking that possibility with it as it went down the drain. Desolation hit her with crippling strength when the reality came crashing down on her. She was too weak and too slow to escape Dean. He would keep her here forever. Force her to carry this possible monster inside her to term. 

 

“Hey Crowley, it’s me. I’m gonna deal with those Abaddon groupies tonight.” Dean said acerbically as soon as Crowley picked up his phone. 

“Oh, well, look at that. Nice to hear–”

Crowley started, but Dean interrupted him. “See you in twenty.” He cut short before he hung up. 

 

“Dean, what a pleasure to see you.” Crowley drawled. His accent made it sound belittling. Always having a big mouth when his demon bodyguards were at his sides. Well, if Dean wanted to, he could slaughter them all three in as many seconds. But management really hasn’t been his desire, so he allowed Crowley to sit on his throne, though he wasn’t afraid of picking him down from his pedestal. 

“Shut up, will you?” Dean sneered. 

“Oh, someone’s a bit moody, huh? Trouble with the toy?” Crowley flashed a smarmy smile like his mood amused him. Dean’s green eyes fixed him an irate stare. His hand clenched so hard around the knife in his hand that his knuckles turned white. He needed to kill something, and if Crowley didn’t soon point him in a direction, he would take what was in front of him. Crowley could always find new bodyguards. 

“Easy now. Mind your blood pressure, Dean.” Crowley told him with a raised hand, but finally, that smile was wiped off his annoying face. Though Crowley annoyed the shit out of him sometimes, he had to admit he was useful. And his last trite, however overused it was, was usually a sign of his goodwill and Dean getting his way. 

After Nat’s little stunt this evening, he was still fuming. Even after punishing her. A fiendish smile pulled the corner of his lips up when he thought of her lying in his bed. Naked, plugged in two of her holes, covered in his load. Mmm… he would definitely take a round with her when he got home after burning off the worst of his pent-up vicious need. Just thinking about slaughtering a few demons and then get directly home to her made him all tingly. 

She was smarter than he had given her credit for. But playing him like that… Her punishment wasn’t over. He was still pissed with her and wanted to teach her a lesson. At some point, she must get into her thick head that she was not getting away from him alive. She was his property now. 

 

Natasha’s jaw was starting to hurt from the dildo gag that forced her mouth to stay open. At first, it had been hard to breathe because of her continuous crying, but now the three-inch dildo in her mouth, resting against her tongue, just caused her discomfort. What was worst was the one in her rear. The heavy pain had decreased to a dull pounding ache instead that matched the harm his belt had made. 

During the night, she tried to sleep, but she couldn’t. She was cold, she was in pain, and her mind was drowning her. She didn’t know if she looked forward to or feared when Dean would be home again. 

A car stopped in the gravel outside the house, and Natasha’s question was answered. Her body tensed and she felt like the air was eluding her lungs in horror. Her body trembled, not only from the cold now. 

When she heard the heavy footsteps leading to the bedroom, a quiet whimper sneaked around the gag. The door unlocked and opened. Natasha curled herself up even more to protect herself. Then the lights turned on and blinded her for a couple of seconds. When she could focus again, she saw Dean leaning against the doorway with crossed arms. “Missed me?” He said with a mischievous smile playing at the edge of his lips, but his unwavering gaze remained unreadable. Natasha didn’t have a chance to predict what was going to happen next and that made her huddle up against the headboard to make herself as small as possible in a futile attempt to protect and cover herself. 

Still, with crossed arms, he approached the bed. His sturdy posture towered over her when his steps came to a halt at the foot of the bed. She felt so exposed and defenseless. 

“I forgot how disgustingly filthy you were when I left.” He noted dryly with a raised eyebrow. The smile playing on his lips disappeared as he pressed his lips together to a dissatisfied line. 

For the first time since he entered, Natasha could tear her eyes from his and chanced a look at the rest of him. There was some blood on the right side of his face and in his hair. Blood splatters were sporadically scattered on all his clothes and there were a few tears in his flannel shirt and jeans. All this added to his alarming appearance, though she had seen him covered in much more blood before. 

When her brown eyes found his penetrating green gaze, Natasha tried to beg him not to hurt her with her eyes. That she couldn’t take any more abuse. She just couldn’t. 

A whimper flew past the gag when Dean crawled onto the bed, and she crawled as far up against the headboard as she could. She let out a muffled scream when he latched onto her hips and pulled her back until she was lying flat on her stomach. 

“No. No. No more. Please…” Natasha tried to say, but the gag muffled her words beyond recognition. He grabbed the straps around her thighs and loosened them so he could tear the dildo out of her ass. A half-pained, half-relieved whine came from her as her body jolted. It was a relief to have it out of her, but she had been widened for so many hours it felt like she had a permanent unnatural hole back there. 

An open palm spank on the tender skin on her right butt cheek made her whine in pain as her body jumped from the bed. Then both Dean’s hands laid on her butt cheeks and massaged them in circles. With a whimper, Natasha tried to crawl farther up the bed as his crude massaging could just as well have been distributed to her bare nerve endings, but Dean stopped her by grasping onto her hips and pull her back. 

He spread her butt cheeks wide open with a thumb on either side. “Mmm, your ass is all wide and warmed up. Then I won't have to go easy on you.” Dean nearly moaned as he studied her exposed and stretched hole. Natasha tried to yell ‘no’ several times, but her words were completely incoherent. 

Fear slithered down her spine as Dean made his plans with her clear. Her punishment wasn’t over. He just came in here to rape her again. If she had been able to talk, she would have begged him to take her pussy or mouth instead if there really was no way around it. But there wasn’t, and she couldn’t beg him so he would hear it. Her ass was already aching so profoundly, she didn’t know if she could physically take what he was about to do. The moisture filled up her eyes and blurred her sight as her breathing became more shaking, the more the panic filled her. 

One of his thumbs easily slipped into her second hole and circled it. Natasha let out an uncomfortable whine. His touch made it feel like a bad burn with blisters. 

“Mmm, this is gonna be good.” He moaned anticipated, but to Natasha, it sounded like a promise of suffering. As she couldn’t talk, she shook her head violently instead while she whimpered, but Dean ignored her completely. Tears of powerlessness and despair rolled down on their own accord, as all she could do was wait helplessly for his assault. 

“You thought I was done with you, but I‘m not.” Dean’s voice had changed to that dangerously soothing voice, making his words seem sharp as broken pieces of glass, cutting a sob out of her throat. To Natasha’s surprise, Dean’s finger left her insides and he crawled off the bed. Turning her head, she followed his movements, but not until her gaze had unconsciously fell on her behind. There was a bluish-black shadow with big splotches of red surrounding it across her ass. It was as wide as his belt and her skin had swelled at least a quarter of an inch. 

Dean crawled onto the bed again with two pillows in his hands. He hooked an arm around her waist before she could do anything but yelp, lifted her, and stacked the pillows under her hips. “Spread your legs.” He demanded as he sat behind her with his knees on each side of her thighs. 

Another sob was pushed around the gag as Natasha squeezed her eyes shut. What choice did she have? Spread her legs or don’t do it, but then get punished and have her legs forced apart anyway? She couldn’t win over him no matter what she did, so she unwillingly spread her legs with another miserable sob. 

Dean placed himself between her legs. She heard him unbuckle his belt and his zipper coming undone. Though she knew it was pointless and that he wouldn’t understand her, she still tried to say, ‘no,’ ‘please,’ and ‘stop,’ repeatedly around the gag and in between her sobs. 

He guided himself to her second hole and slowly pushed inside with a deep moan. Natasha had to admit it didn’t hurt so much as it usually did, but she screamed anyway and tugged in the handcuffs as he pressed into her. It was still an encroaching of her and as if it had become a habit, she fought him. No matter how low she felt or how pointless it was, she couldn’t just succumb to him. 

“Oh, it’s so good to be in your ass again even though it’s all widened.” Dean moaned as he latched onto her hips and slowly pulled back. He could feel her ass wasn’t as tight as it usually was because he had left the big dildo in her ass for so many hours, but it was still good. Her ass was still exquisite. 

When he reached the apex, he held still. “And oh, you had me fooled, you little _skank_.” At the last word, he jolted hard into her as a punishment, eliciting another scream from her as he without further ado, continued in a fast and brutal pace inside her. 

“There I was, holding back with fucking you because I thought you were all mopey and depressed, but that’s over, baby. If you hadn't noticed, it was already over yesterday. You don’t get to trick me into sympathizing you. And now you’re gonna get it.” He snarled out through his clenched teeth. His breathing was already getting labored. And now the pain that hadn't seemed so worse to begin with, got exactly as severe as it used to. 

“I have you figured out, you little cunt. I get to know you better and better the longer you’re here. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. And that ain’t happening, sweetheart. I promise you that, you filthy skank.” He panted menacingly. All Natasha could do was lie there, subjected to him, and scream as he was thrusting harshly and brutally into her ass. Scream with tears flowing down her cheeks as his hips slammed against the tender skin on her butt cheeks and his dick harmed her already sore ass. She was defenseless and at his mercy. And the last would never come. His callous thrusting was proof of that. Her muffled screams were only paused when she raggedly filled her lungs with a new breath of air to scream out again. 

Dean’s panting breath that came out in short bursts through his clenched teeth were filled with animalistic grunts as he was thrusting into her at a punishing pace. Completely absorbed in the feeling of her ass after it had been so long. His hungry gaze was fixated at her ass where he watched himself going rapidly and ferociously in and out of her. Nearing his climax as fast as tumbling down a hillside. 

_Please be done soon. Please be done soon._ Natasha begged silently. It hadn't hurt so much when he first entered her, but his brutal thrusting into her hurt to the point where her body was completely rigid with pain and her screams were out of her control, almost involuntary. She wasn’t cold anymore as the pain had made clammy sweat sprung out on her skin, but a coldness still lingered on the inside of her. 

He broke his string of bestial grunts to taunt her, “I wanna come in your ass, but I also wanna come all over you and really dirty you up. Do you think I have two rounds in me, baby? Oh, I think I do, if I first come in your ass and watch how it runs out of you. Yeah, then I’ll definitely be ready for a round two. I _need_ to come in your ass. I need a good ass-orgasm.” He sounded almost desperate as he upped his tempo to a furious pace. The sweat was already running in drops from his temples and the flannel shirt stuck to his skin. The smacking sound from his hips colliding with her plump ass got wetter. 

Natasha wanted to scream louder by his words, but she was already screaming at the top of her lungs. She couldn’t take any more of his abuse. She felt herself shatter in pieces into her deepest core by his malevolent manhandling and maltreatment. 

“That one yesterday wasn’t that good. Coming by hand is never as good as coming in an ass. I’m gonna come so deep and hard inside you, you’ll be spitting out my sperm. Oh, it’s gonna be so good raping your ass for nearly an hour. You know how my second rounds are, baby, they’re a little slow.” His left hand left her hip only to grab onto the tips of her hair at her lower back. Wrapping her hair a couple of times around his hand, he pulled her head back, straining her screams in this new painful position. 

Dean was almost trembling as he chased his release in her. He lost his rhythm and finally spilled himself deep in her ass with a deep guttural groan followed by three deep thrusts where he emptied himself completely inside her. With a powerful exhale, Dean let go of her hair to wipe his forehead while he was still buried deep inside her. 

Natasha’s forehead dropped to the latex sheet and her hysterical screams morphed into loud broken sobs, everything muffled effectively by the dildo gag. 

“Now I’m gonna pull out of you and you’ll keep your fucking legs spread so I can watch how my load runs out of you. I’m not done with you yet, you fucking slut.” He snarled and ended with an open palm smack on her right butt cheek that made her body jolt. Dean inhaled sharply and then gasped out as her sudden movement overstimulated his sensitive member. Slowly, he pulled back until his dick slipped out of her widened hole. “Oh, this looks good.” He moaned breathily as he was still trying to catch his breath. 

First, the pain intensified when he left her insides and she cried out, but then it decreased though she still felt like there was a permanent unnatural hole back there. 

 

Dean lounged himself across the bed behind her and lit a Marlboro from the package in his pocket. He dragged in a deep breath and felt the nicotine calm the adrenaline and frenzy in his body as he watched the wonderful view in front of him. Greedily, he watched as his load slowly spilled out of her widened ass. She hadn't been this widened since the first night she was here. 

Without her hearing it, he carefully took off his belt and placed it in front of him, holding on to the belt buckle to make sure it wouldn’t jingle and catch her attention. Then his right hand began stroking her calf. She gave a small jump at the contact but then continued to sob quietly and plaintively. He was glad she had that gag on, so her pathetic crying was quieted a bit. Her sudden movement pressed more of his sperm out of her. Dean was propped up on his right elbow, so his hand caressed the same four inches of her soft pale skin he could reach. His light touch gave her goosebumps. He didn’t know if it was from disgust or because it tickled, and honestly, he didn’t care. 

In between his drags of the cigarette, his left hand stroked his member through his boxers as he had pulled his jeans up but not closed them. They would come off again in a couple of minutes. 

All his pent-up lust, anger, and frustration with her had finally been released though there was still more left, but the worst pressure was taken off. 

When she had tased him, he had seen red like a deranged bull. And when she had said ‘because I wanted to scrub you off of me,’ it had just pissed him off even more. How dare she? She was his now. He wanted to prove to her that she would never be able to ‘scrub him off her.’ He actually enjoyed dirtying her up more than he had thought it would. Like he marked her like a dog pissing its territory. And besides, for the next long time, she wouldn’t physically be able to ‘scrub him off her’ because he was _inside_ her. In satisfaction, his eyes narrowed as a cunning smile dawned on his lips. 

His watchful gaze followed the path of his white sticky load trickling over her pussy, dripping directly down on the black latex sheet while some of it also flowed down her thighs. The sight was already reigniting him for a second round. The blood flowed favorable to his member, already hardening him. 

With his bare fingers, he put out the cigarette glow. It sizzled for a couple of seconds, but then his skin was as good as new when he flicked the cigarette butt to the floor. 

Dean sat up on his knees and instantly Nat’s muscles tensed. He sat still until she relaxed again, grabbed the belt, and let it fall on her ass with a loud smack. A shrill scream pierced his ears and again, he was thankful for leaving the gag on her, as her body jumped startled at least a foot from the bed and she clamped her legs shut. But she dutifully spread them again and a tingle traveled down his spine at his dominance of her. He was gonna rape her into complete submission at some point. It was just a matter of time. She was resilient like her ass, but she wasn’t indestructible. He just had to keep it up and wait for her to snap like a twig. 

Her jump and tensing of her muscles pushed a big blob of sperm out of her and dripped onto the latex sheet with a splash as her legs submissively spread for him. That was the last it took to make him completely hard as a rock. He was so fucking ready to rape her again. And it had been so long since he had used his favorite lube; his own sperm. A shudder coursed through him just by the thought and his pupils were blown wide of rapacious lust.

Natasha was still breathless from his sudden unforeseen spank with the belt. Both his hands laid on her butt cheeks and crudely squeezed them. It felt like the outer protective layer of skin had been peeled off her, so much did it hurt her inflamed ass. Another muffled shriek came from her when his teeth sunk into her left butt cheek with a raw grunt. 

By her cuffs, she tried to creep farther up the bed to escape him, but her movement only made his teeth tug at her skin and he didn’t let go before she laid completely still. His tongue licked her all the way from the bite mark up to her lower back, eliciting a shudder of disgust from her. A second after his tongue left her skin his right hand smacked her ass, causing another muffled whine to seep out around the gag. 

Natasha heard him pull down his jeans and boxers followed by feeling him position himself behind her. A broken sob came from her as she wanted to beg him to stop what he was about to do. Instead, she did the only thing she could. She ventured to peek at him as he sat there on his knees behind her. His jeans and boxers down, holding his member in his hand as he was about to guide himself to her hole. His baleful eyes sought her brown ones and then narrowed as he looked back at her with a strangely pending gaze. As if he was curious to why she would suddenly willingly look at him considering the circumstances. 

Natasha tried again to beg him with her eyes and her expression while she shook her head. Dean lifted an eyebrow, and she tried more insisting to beg him. “Please don’t do this. Please. Please. Please.” The gag muffled her so much he wouldn’t understand her words, but she hoped he would understand her imploring tone. 

An icy smile without humor pulled the tips of his lips upwards as he, without warning, pushed into her as. Natasha squeezed her eyes shut as her head craned back with a protesting and pained scream. 

Dean let out a heartfelt moan as he held still, completely buried in her ass, enjoying the feeling of her spermed up hole. In a quick motion, he pulled halfway back and jolted back into her with another profound moan, making a shockwave of pain ripple through her. 

“Ah, yeah, this is what I’m talking about.” He taunted and spanked her ass with his right hand, but his voice was filled with pleasure, causing his tone to be softer. Both his hands latched onto her hips as he started moving. Not at the same punishing pace as before, but still hard and unsparingly. Every thrust elicited a heart-aching muffled scream from Natasha and a throaty moan from Dean. The tears spilled down her cheeks with renewed force and it became harder and harder for her to breathe. 

“Does your ass hurt, slut? Hmm? Just because you’re gagged doesn’t mean you can't answer my questions. It’s a simple yes or no, so nod or shake your head.” Dean demanded, his menacing tone was interrupted by a couple of breathy moans at his semi-slow but hard rhythm. 

Afraid of more punishment, Natasha obeyed him and nodded. Every advance into her sent a wave of pain through her. It felt like his hard length was covered in red-hot sandpaper. 

“Good. That’s good. Good girl.” He praised her condescendingly as his right hand patronizingly patted her ass. “Mmm, it’s so good to rape your ass like this again even though it’s a little widened after you’ve been plugged all night. But it’s okay, your ass is still the best I’ve ever been in.” He made it sound like a degrading flatter. “You look so good with your ass in the air. You know what looks even better? Your ass with my dick in it. Oh yeah, your ass stretched around my big dick is simply a beautiful sight.” Dean moaned rawer as a shiver coursed through him, so powerfully even Natasha could feel it. 

She tried to tune out his mocking, but her screams weren’t loud enough to drown his words with the gag in her mouth. 

“Last time, I covered your face and tits with my load, this time I’m gonna come all over your back and ass, baby. You are gonna be one filthy little slut. How does it feel to be covered in _me_?” Dean let out a humorless chuckle while he was still keeping the same tempo pumping into her aching ass. “Does it feel good?” He mocked. “Answer!” He demanded accompanied with a punishing trust that broke his rhythm and made her scream more high-pitched. 

Natasha violently shook her head. No! It didn’t feel good in any way to be greased up with his disgusting sperm. The revulsion would have made her retch if it wasn’t for her uncontrollable screams. The shame burned her cheeks by his condescending, the reminder of how she was already covered with him, and that she was about to receive more. 

“Good girl.” Dean patted her right butt cheek patronizingly as he resumed his harsh and ruthless thrusting. His moans soon turned into more throaty grunts. “I’m gonna go harder on you now.” His voice had a hint of softness that only made the words sound more merciless to her. He broke his old rhythm and continued in a new more vicious and savage pace into her. 

“Oh, are your ass getting wetter for me, you dirty whore? Or have your ass had enough now?” His tone turned baleful and brusque, deprived of any of the softness or praise there had just been. 

How deranged was he to even think that? Natasha thought to herself, but she already knew the answer. He got off on hurting her and humiliating her until she could die of sheer shame. She felt her cheeks get hotter from his deriding and the stabbing pain from every brutal advance into her. Her vocal chords felt frayed from all her pointless screams and she begged silently that he would soon be done with her. Couldn’t he see how his punishment was tearing her apart?

His fingers dug deep into the flesh on her hips, as he pulled her back for every time his hips went forward, causing him to penetrate her ass harder and deeper. Dean’s panting breath filled with exerted grunts matched his tempo into her. “Maybe I did go a little soft with you, after all. But as I’ve said before, it can be tiring to be the big bad demon all the time. Though I think that was my mistake. To give myself a little break from all the big bad demon stuff and lean back here at home. But it’s over now.” Dean’s tone got more taunting and scornful. Between each sentence, he had to pause to let out animalistic grunts of pleasure. 

To Natasha’s relief, it sounded like he was finally about to be done. She had watched the minutes pass by on the digital clock and he hadn't lied when he said he would be raping her ass for nearly an hour. His abuse was inexorably about to break her. She couldn’t take this anymore! 

“Oh, baby, your ass is bleeding,” Dean stated as if he was greatly appeased by that fact. His right hand spanked her already thumping skin and now upped his tempo to the unbearable. “How is this for going soft? Hmm? Do I feel soft to you? Do I feel soft to you while I’m fucking raping your bleeding ass? Huh? No, I’m fucking not soft. I’m a fucking demon. And I’m gonna come all over you and make you the filthy disgusting slut that you really are. Oh, fuck yes!” He growled furiously through clenched teeth in short outburst as he chased his second climax in her hurting ass in a savage thrusting. 

Natasha could hardly breathe as her screams escalated out of her control to hysterical. The dildo gag obstructing her breathing further. 

“I’m gonna come on you, you dirty whore!” Dean snarled as he pulled out of her. The sound of him frantically pumping himself as he grunted hotly, made Natasha wish she could cover her ears. 

With three deep guttural groans, Dean came and released on her. The hot splashes of his load hit the middle of her back down to her lower back and the last on the globes of her ass. She felt the last hot drops of him drip down on her butt cheeks as he moaned and sighed contentedly. 

Natasha’s uncontrolled screams had stopped and was replaced with a grief-stricken and devastated sobbing. An open palm spank between her legs made her shriek only to continue to bawl her eyes out like never before. She was disgusting. She had been demeaned to a demons rape-doll and that was all she was now. This was her life now. She wasn’t a person. She was merely a thing. A possession. And now also an incubator for a demon-spawn. 

Dean’s hand began spreading his load on her, smearing it on her ass, her lower back all the way up to her shoulder blades, then down her sides to her hips. When he was done with that, two of his fingers pushed into her ass and pumped them roughly into her, making her bawling more whiny and high-pitched. After a couple of seconds, he pulled out his fingers and continued to smudge his load over her. He gathered some of the sperm that had dripped onto the latex sheet and spread it on her thighs, both back and front. Basically all over her, so she was completely covered in it all while he degraded her disparagingly, “I’ve never seen a whore so disgusting as you and I’ve never seen one covered in as much sperm as you are now. You’re a little greased-up pig. Unbelievable someone would touch you willingly. You shouldn't be touched unless it was with a ten-foot barge pole. You’re a filthy little whore, aren’t you? Just look at you, completely spermed up. This is me, marking my little filthy slut as my private territory. Do you get that? You fucking belong to me and I do whatever the fuck I want with you, you nasty skank. Ugh, you’re so filthy. I haven’t seen anything this disgusting since I was in hell.” Finally, it seemed like he was done with his berating of her and smudging his sperm on her because he stood up from the bed. The first thing she did was to close her legs. He ripped the pillows out from under her and threw them to the floor.

Natasha heard him walk up to the bedside to her left. She didn’t see it as her head was turned the other way. Dean grabbed her hair and turned her head to face him. “You’re my filthy slut. _Mine_.” He sneered low and threatening. She could barely see him through the continuous and never-ending stream of tears. Her dispirited bawling muffled by the dildo gag was ceaseless. 

Dean wiped his hand off in her hair like last time before he straightened up and headed for the door. “This place reek like a fucking whorehouse.” He scolded like it was her fault, opened the window behind the blackout curtain closest to the door before he turned off the light, and slammed the door so hard she jumped a foot from the bed.


	15. Chapter 15

Dean dropped his body heavily on the couch. From his pocket, he took a Marlboro and lit it. In his other hand was a glass of red wine. “With a fine ass goes a fine glass of wine.” He mumbled to himself as he took a sip of the wine. Inhaling heavily, he sighed out. 

What. A. Day. 

It was eight in the morning, meaning he hadn't slept in twenty-six hours. No wonder he was so tired. Though he didn’t look forward to sleeping on the couch. His own bed was better. But when he had picked this house, he hadn't exactly counted on sharing it with _anybody_. So it had been more than big enough for his needs. Now he wished he had a guest room where he could sleep while that whore was in timeout. Maybe he would need an extra room eventually anyway. 

Absentmindedly Dean looked around as he speculated about what to do. Put a wall up in the bedroom and split it in two? Or should he make an extension of the house? And if it was the latter, where? 

With a sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose and then scowled in the direction of the bedroom. This was all her fault. If she hadn't been a little bitch and bit him, he had never kept her here. But a threat is a threat. He was too stubborn to leave it with anything than that. Besides, wasn’t it starting to be a little nice to have her around? Even though she annoyed the shit out of him sometimes? And pissed him off beyond hell? 

He had to admit it. That he was starting to like having her bustling around. 

Dean chugged down the last of the wine and put out the cigarette before he undressed while staying horizontally. He was too tired to get up. In boxers, he got under the blanket and made himself as comfortable as he could get. 

Dean had been sure he would pass out immediately, but that wasn’t the case. He twisted and turned. Something roamed inside him. 

For a long time, hours, he laid like that, until something settled in him. A deep furrow appeared on his forehead and he narrowed his eyes as he looked up at the ceiling. Was he… was he _feeling bad_ for punishing Nat so severely? 

No, she had deserved it. She hurt him and tried to run. How did she even dare? What part of ‘you’re fucking mine now and this is your home now,’ was it that she couldn’t get into her fucking thick head? 

He let out a loud snort. Maybe she misbehaved, and maybe he got a huge kick out of raping her and assert his dominance over her like he had just done… okay, the second maybe wasn’t a maybe. It was a fact. He did get a huge kick out of it that filled and satiated him in a way nothing else could, but now she laid in there wailing. Alone. “That’s fucking ridiculous. Get your shit together, man.” He hissed to himself. But if he held his breath and listened carefully with fully pricked ears, he could barely sense her wailing. So he tried breathing as loudly as he could instead. 

Get a good night’s sleep, or day technically, and then… Oh, who the fuck was he kidding? He got up. In the bathroom, he cleaned the blood off him, and took some not-blood-splattered-I-have-just-been-on-a-murder-spree clothes from the laundry basket and grabbed his car keys. This wouldn’t take more than twenty minutes. Thirty, tops before he was back. 

 

The sperm on her back got cold, dried, and itched like last time. The stiff clump in her hair was bigger. Natasha felt so disgusting she could barely stand it. She felt like it would take an acid bath to make her clean. And not even then would she be completely clean. Dean was still inside her. 

It annoyed her that he had removed the pillows from under her before he left. If he had left them on the bed, she could try to wipe some of it off in them, as it was useless on the latex sheet. She knew because she had tried. 

If she hadn't had a gag on, her teeth would have chattered from the cold that was worse now where one of the bedroom windows were open. 

The world was just out there. Just behind the open window. She couldn’t see it as the blackout curtains blocked it, but she could feel the cold breeze on her skin and a glimpse of light flickered in the room when the wind played with the curtain. So close but still so far away. She didn’t even have the strength to try and test of she could pull hard enough to break the cuffs. 

Almost four hours later, she heard his car leave the driveway. Then at least she didn’t have to fear him come barging in every minute. That made her relax a little, though it was only on the inside as her body was tense and trembling from the cold. 

To Natasha’s regret, he was soon back. It hadn't been more than half an hour and again she faced the fear of him coming barging in every minute. 

She only had to wait a couple of minutes before it happened. With a click, the door unlocked and opened. Her breathing accelerated to the same pace of her heart that beat faster than she could count as she pulled as far back as the cuffs allowed and huddled together against the headboard while she whimpered loudly. A few tears found their way down her cheeks in sheer fear. 

Dean turned on the light, momentarily blinding her, and walked to the bedside where he sat down. His eyebrows were pulled down and his lips were a pale line as he looked down on her. Clearly dissatisfied with her. She just didn’t know if he was dissatisfied enough to punish her even more. 

He raised an eyebrow like her behavior both puzzled and annoyed him. Dean removed his eyes from her and stared at the wall behind her instead while he drew in a deep breath. “I would apologize, but I’m not. You brought this on yourself. It’s your own fault.” He said firmly, but his words surprised Natasha. 

_I would apologize?_ What the hell? For a moment, she stopped tugging in the cuffs in an attempt to get farther away from him. 

Dean’s green eyes whipped back to hers. They were so cold she flinched. Still unsure if her punishment was over or not. With him around, she was never safe. 

“I don’t like to beat you.” He stated stridently.

_Oh yeah? You could have fooled me._ Natasha felt like saying. It wasn’t only the gag that held her words back. She couldn’t dare to say them anyway afraid of more punishment. 

Then his eyes dropped from hers and it looked like he hesitated before speaking again. “Especially not now…” He fell silent as a nearly undetectable softness infiltrated his voice. When Dean had recomposed himself, he continued more firmly, but still with his gaze directed at the bed instead of her. “But I have to when you behave like that. So maybe in the future, you should think more about your actions. Especially now, so I don’t have to punish you.” He swallowed noticeably when he finished. 

_Are you fucking kidding me!?_ Natasha felt like yelling. His words had ignited what was left of her spirit. _I_ have to think about _my_ actions so _you_ don’t have to _beat me_? She ignored the fact that he was referring to her pregnancy. 

As quickly as her anger had ignited, it disappeared again as the air whooshing out of a balloon. She was too tired to fight against him. 

Dean clenched his jaw and stood up. When he leaned over her, Natasha couldn’t help but whimper and pull back. With a sleight of hand, he opened the straps to the gag behind her head. As they loosened, Natasha spat out the dildo gag. She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times. Her jaw was stiff and strained from being forced open for so many hours. Her lips were chapped to the point where the corners of her mouth were regular wounds. 

Dean’s hand reached up and stroked her cheek. When his fingers touched her skin, she couldn’t help but flinch, but Dean didn’t seem to take a note of it. After stroking her cheek a couple of times, his hand wandered down over her side to her waist, where it deviated and settled on her stomach. Gently he pressed his hand to her stomach and spread out his fingers. 

Natasha’s eyes had warily followed his hand while keeping an eye on his face to look for any red flags, but there were none. She felt her face get redder as she was suddenly overly aware of as she was lying there on the bed, she completely naked and filthy. 

“Can you… feel it?” She asked hesitantly after a moment when he continued to keep his hand on her stomach with a deep furrow between his eyebrows. Maybe if it was part demon he could feel it. 

“No. I’m a demon, not an ultrasound.” Dean snapped and removed his hand from her stomach like she had burned him. “Come.” He then snapped harsher as he released her cuffs from the headboard and by the chain, dragged her up from the bed. 

Several times, Natasha inhaled sharply and winced as her body hurt. Every movement caused her great discomfort. What was worse, was her ass. Both inside and outside. “What are you doing?” She asked in a frail voice when Dean had pulled her up to stand next to him. 

“Giving you a bath. You’re disgusting and you stink.” He sneered in a low voice as he wrinkled his nose. 

At least it would be good to finally clean all this off her, but it was almost secondary to the prospect of being warmed up by the water. That was how much she was still freezing. 

He dragged her to the bathroom where he chained her to the hook on the ceiling inside the shower. After chaining her, Dean undressed. 

So, now it was back to this. Not being allowed to shower by herself. In the bedroom, she had relaxed more and more as his assault continued to be absent, but now she tensed up again. She remembered far too well last time she was chained in here. 

Dean got into the shower too and turned on the water. He pushed her back so none of the water would hit her while it heated up. At first, Natasha was surprised over his consideration, but as the water heated up, he stepped under, and washed his hair and his body. 

Her skin was still cold. She was still trembling lightly. It was like she was cold right into the bone. So when he was washing the soap off, she stepped closer, making the hook rattle in the rail. It wasn’t to get closer to Dean, but if being close to Dean meant that she could be warmed under the hot water, then she’d gladly do it. But just before she reached him, he pushed her back with a hand around her throat and held her at an arm’s length. His grip around her throat wasn’t enough to strain her breath in any way, but the thread it carried make her gulp. 

Natasha forced herself to lock gazes with him. Her brown eyes looked pleading at him while her lower lip quivered from the cold. A smug smile crossed Dean’s lips as he lightly shook his head and then gave her a push, so she stumbled back until the chain hit the end of the rail and stopped her. 

So her punishment wasn’t over, she thought discouraged. But he said he would give her a bath? Maybe he was just toying with her. To be honest, Natasha couldn’t find the strength to feel properly wronged or get pissed about it. With a sigh, she just accepted her fate. He had only brought her in here to mock her while he enjoyed the heated flows of water. At least the steam that filled the room was warmer than the bedroom, but she was so cooled down, it didn’t make much of a difference. 

Out of her control, a couple of silent tears left her eyes. They left a hot line down her face. She barely looked up when Dean stepped closer. He grabbed her chin and tilted her head back to force her to look at him. “Do you want a shower?” He asked. A mischievous smile hung on his lips as he raised an eyebrow. 

“Yes, please,” Natasha whispered. She hated how he controlled her completely. Even controlled her basic needs such as food, water, and warmth. 

“Then give me a kiss.” He made it sound like a dare. Like he thought he would have to drag it out of her by force. But she was tired of his games and manipulation, so she just did as he demanded. Dean stiffened for a moment when she, without hesitation, pushed her lips against his. Surprised that she accommodated his wish so willingly. When his first surprise had ebbed off, he moaned into the kiss as his free hand snuck to the back of her neck. He pressed his body against hers, causing a quiet sigh to leak from Natasha’s lips as the heat from his wet body felt heavenly. His free arm draped around her waist. For the first time, Natasha enjoyed every inch of where their skin touched. He was so warm. 

His lips began working greedily against hers. She kissed him, but she kept her lips slack. The only movement was Dean’s insisting lips pushing against hers. His harsh kiss modeled her lips as if they had been clay. 

Finally, he pulled his lips back. When he took a couple of steps back, he dragged her with him. Natasha inhaled sharply and whimpered as the cascades of water hit her. The water was so hot compared to her cooled skin, that it felt boiling. Her sore rear ached like acid had been poured on it, but the longer she was under, the more bearable it got. 

Dean let his body glide around her until he was behind her. First, he washed her long brown hair. As he grabbed it, he tilted her head back and out of the water. Massaged the shampoo into to it all the way to the tips at her lower back. After washing it out, he pulled her completely out of the water. Natasha sighed as it only felt like her skin had been heated, not her flesh or her bones. She was still cold inside. Dean poured some soap into his hands and rubbed them together before he started washing her neck. As he moved down and reached her breasts, he touched her unnecessarily much. Grabbed them, circled them, and even pinched her nipples so hard, she inhaled sharply. When he reached between her legs, he did the same, spend unnecessarily long time there. But if that was what it took to get clean, or as clean as she could get, she accepted it. It felt good to wash all of his dried, itching load off her. Playing with her like this under the shower wasn’t the worst thing he had done to her and this almost seemed innocent compared to what else he had done to her. 

What had become of her life, if being groped without consent had reached such an innocent level? This wasn’t a life, was the answer. She had to find a way out, one way or the other. 

Her thoughts were interrupted when he washed her rear. He wasn’t gentler there than when he washed the rest of her body and she found herself trying to move farther away from him as it hurt, leading her under the running water again where most of the soap was washed off. She exclaimed her pain in whines and whimpers, but Dean’s ignored her. Just when he finished up, he let a finger run between her butt cheeks. Natasha straightened up and stiffened as his finger circled her sore second hole. 

_No, please…_ she silently begged. _I can't take any more of this…_

Dean moved closer behind her. His body under an inch from hers. He bowed down so his lips were close to her right ear and she could hear how his breathing changed to a heavier, deeper one. 

Pressing her lips together, she managed to suppress the sobs that pressed in her throat. Instead, she shook her head and sniffed. 

“Shh,” Dean hushed close to her ear as his finger put more pressure on her hole. His left arm wrapped around her waist to keep her in place when she nervously moved around and lifted herself to her toes to escape him. “I’m just checking how tight you are.” He whispered into her ear as one of his fingers intruded her. A half-whine, half-sob was pushed over her lips as it hurt. 

Dean let out a small moan as if having a finger inside her was enough to cause him pleasure. “You’re beginning to regain your tightness.” He moaned appreciatively and licked from her jawline to her temple as he probed around inside her. Natasha pulled as far to the left as the prison formed by his body allowed her. 

His finger moved slowly back and forth and then circled inside her. She knew he was done ‘checking her tightness,’ now he was just tormenting her for the fun of it. Out of energy and strength, Natasha realized another strategy might work. So instead of fighting him, she relaxed and became limp. Hoping it wasn’t as fun for him to do it when he didn’t receive a response. It didn’t hurt less, but somehow it was a relief to stop fighting him. 

“Are you starting to like it?” Dean whispered and his teeth caught her earlobe. The smirk and amusement were obvious in his voice. 

In response, Natasha calmly shook her head with a small but definitive, “No.”

“It doesn’t feel that way.” Now there was an underlying threat in his low voice. But as tired as Natasha was, she didn’t give him the satisfaction of responding. 

Dean continued to finger her ass for a couple of minutes, until it wasn’t fun for him anymore, as Natasha stayed limp and silent. He let her go with a small snort and turned off the water, and she let out a sigh of relief. To her satisfaction, Natasha had been heated by the water and was now toasty warm besides that icy chunk in her stomach that remained cold. It was a relief to be somewhat clean again. She felt fresh instead of disgusting. Though if she had been allowed to take a shower by herself, she would probably have scrubbed her skin until there was nothing left in an attempt to feel completely clean. Maybe that was why Dean didn’t allow her to shower by herself now. 

Dean released her from the hook and rail in the ceiling and threw a towel her way. She caught it and started drying herself. It wasn’t exactly easy as her hands were still cuffed and the chain on these was much shorter than the padded cuffs. 

In the bedroom, Dean was so kind to release one of her hands from the cuffs so she could get dressed in one of his flannel shirts and a black pair of pants. Or it was actually more like leggings that were a little too loose like they were a couple of sizes too big for her. 

When she was dressed, he cuffed her hands again and dragged her to the dining table. “Sit down.” He ordered her and walked to the kitchen. 

She sat down carefully, but it still hurt her behind just to sit. So she put her left leg up under her and rested her weight on her foot and shin. It made it more tolerable to sit. Disinterested, Natasha started combing her hair with her fingers. The stiff chunk was gone, but her hair was a tangled mess. She wished she had a real comb. Something she had taken for granted before Dean happened to her. Actually, she had taken a lot of things for granted before she met Dean and this became her life. Basic things like a comb, conditioner, body lotion, bathtub, and so on. She missed experimenting with cooking and baking for herself and her friends, missed her shoe collection, reading, her so-called ‘chick-flick’ movies that she ate raw. She missed her apartment, her family, and her friends. Even her co-workers. And going to work. It would be a dream just to be able to take the bus from her apartment to her work. 

As she was done with the left side of her hair and feeling sorry for herself, Dean came back to the table. He placed a sandwich on a plate and a glass of water in front of her before he opened his hand and let six pills fall down on the tabletop in front of the plate. “Eat them,” Dean ordered and pointed at the pills. 

“What is it?” Natasha asked as she looked slightly suspicious at them. It was a lot of pills. Four of them were brownish and elongated. The other two were round and white. 

Dean let out a more profound snort as he clenched his jaw and rolled his eyes. At the next second, he had grabbed onto her hair and jaw, so quick and hard, Natasha jumped and gave a surprised whine of pain. Drawing his face closer to hers, his eyes narrowed further, hiding more of the cold green eyes. “When I tell you to do something, you fucking do it.” He sneered low and threatening through clenched teeth. He let go of her jaw and by her hair, he mercilessly pressed her head so close to the pills, her nose touched one of them. “Eat. Them.” He pronounced every word raucously and slow as if he was talking to someone who was mentally disabled. 

With a gulp and a little difficulty, Natasha gathered the pills in her hand. Dean took it as a sign of her obeying him and he let her neck go with a demeaning push that caused her to let out a small whimper. 

Quickly, Natasha threw the pills in her mouth and swallowed them with the whole glass of water. 

“Open up.” Dean sneered as he grabbed onto her jaw and pushed even before she had a chance to do as he said. With clenched jaw and a scrutinizing gaze, he looked into her mouth to check that she had swallowed the pills. “Tongue up.” He snapped. She lifted her tongue, and finally, Dean let her go with a small nod. 

Rubbing her neck and jaw after his bruising grip, Natasha wondered what kind of pills she had just swallowed. It could be anything. The cold chunk in her stomach spread as she continued to ponder about the pills while eating her sandwich. It felt good to get some food into her stomach and she had to restrain herself from stuffing her face out of hunger as she knew Dean would throw a mean comment her way or make her eat from the floor. And though the house looked nice, it wasn’t that clean. A flash of bodies and blood covering the carpet vividly intruded her mind. It had been some time since she had thought about Pete and Stefan. 

A shudder coursed through her as she saw their lifeless faces and the pool of blood before her inner eye and forced herself to concentrate on the unknown pills she had just swallowed instead. Maybe it’s poison… she wondered as she filled her mind with that question. Maybe he would poison her just to make her sick, but not enough to kill her. Only to make her life a more living hell than it already was. 

With a crushing awareness, Natasha realized that a part of her hoped the pills would make her ill or even better, kill her. Even if that meant a slow painful death. It was better than the life she had now with Dean. 

Did she… did she want to die? No, not really. But she was willing to die if that was the only way she could escape him. That realization was like a punch from an iron fist in her stomach and suddenly she lost her appetite though she was still hungry. She put the half-eaten sandwich back on the plate. The hot tears pricked in her eyes, but she blinked them away. The icy chunk in her stomach grew and spread to her chest. 

Before, she just wanted to escape. Then she needed to escape, so she could get an abortion to rid of that demon-spawn inside of her. Now she was desperate to escape, so desperate, she was willing to pay with her life. To escape him at any cost. 

She was physically inadequate to escape him alive. Maybe this really was the only way. Her mood sank at the pace the chunk of ice spread in her. Was her life really so awful that death was the only way? It had become, she had to admit to herself though she never thought it. 

“Eat,” Dean growled. The irritation evident in his tone. His stern voice ripped her out of her depressing thoughts. Distraught, Natasha picked up the sandwich and nibbled in it without appetite. 

Long after Dean was finished, and had cleaned up after himself, Natasha was still taking microscopic bites of her sandwich. Every time she was about to put it down, Dean raised his gaze from his phone and sent her a burning glare as he sat there at the table, opposite her. 

Her stomach churned and every bite, no matter how small or how long she chewed on it, felt too big in her mouth. And when she swallowed, it felt like she was trying to swallow a tennis ball. 

Finally, after an hour of Dean’s displeased stares and impatient scoffs, she swallowed the last of the sandwich. The pain on her rear had decreased, so Natasha guessed that some of the pills must have been painkillers. 

Dean switched her cuffs with the padded one with the long chain instead. After tugging so much in the regular cuffs, they had left a red and sore mark on both her wrists. After that, he dragged her to the couch where he lied down on his side and demanded her to lie in front of him while he saw some series of some kind. Natasha didn’t pay attention to it. As she had laid down on her side, her backside against his front, he had chained her to the hook under the couch. 

As they lay there, she tried to close her eyes. She was tired, both her body and mind, and a drowsiness had crept in on her after she took the pills. 

 

A thud and a pain in her head and left shoulder woke her. Confused, she realized she was lying on the floor. She rubbed her head and shoulder to ease the pain as she sat up. Dean was lying on his stomach, snoring on the couch with his head turned away from her. He had probably pushed her off the edge in his sleep, just like she had been asleep. As she was still chained to the couch with no way to move him, she laid back down on the carpet with a heavy sigh. She combed the right side of her hair with her fingers while she stared at the table legs of the round dining table and chair legs from under the couch. 

The chunk of ice still inhabited her and suddenly she felt an overwhelming need to cry. One tear after the other pooled against the bridge of her nose until it brimmed over and ran over her cheekbone to the carpet. Her right hand laid on her stomach and she looked down. It didn’t felt like there was anything in there. But there was. And she didn’t know what to do. It would be a monster no matter what. If it didn’t inherit Dean’s genetic, his behavior would definitely affect it. 

She couldn’t overcome the prospect of staying here this long. Not for nine months or longer. Again, she wondered how far along she was. It couldn’t be far when she couldn’t see it or feel it. And she hadn't been here _that_ long though it felt long enough. To be sure, she lifted the flannel shirt and pressed her hand against her skin. No, she still couldn’t feel anything. Her stomach was completely flat. Then she noticed something she hadn't before. She was actually thinner than when she met Dean. Her hip bones were sticking out more. Probably because he starved her every other day. But soon, her stomach would have a bump if she didn’t find a way out. And it would just grow and grow and grow… 

She couldn’t accept staying here for so long. The time she had already stayed here felt like a year. But even though she had lost her sense of time, she knew she hadn't stayed here more than a week or maybe a month. But it just felt so long…

Natasha couldn’t bear thinking about it anymore. With every power she could muster, she silenced her mind and just stared straight ahead of herself. 

 

Dean woke at some point with a snarky remark about her lying on the floor before he started making dinner where he demanded she helped. Again, the appetite had left her and it was a battle to eat the food Dean had put on her plate. 

At night, he demanded a goodnight kiss before he went to sleep. As so many times before, Natasha was awake long after he had fallen asleep. 

 

For two days, he didn’t violate her. He only demanded kisses in the morning, when he got home, and before they went to sleep. Two days without abuse or assault were a blessing. That’s how miserable her life was now. 

Dean kept her chained all times of the day as if he wouldn’t risk anything with her, though she didn’t pose that big a threat. She didn’t know if he was careful or if it was a punishment. She was chained to the bed, she was chained to the table when they ate, then chained to the bed while he was at work, then to the couch if he watched something on the TV. He also chained her in the shower. 

The last two morning’s he had demanded she took four of the brownish elongated pills. And for every day, she hoped more and more that he was slowly poisoning her. If not, she had to find another way. But what made her apprehensive was her, sometimes, mixed feelings about what was inside her. One moment, she was ready to leap off the edge to get rid of it. The next moment, she was willing to protect her stomach at all costs. It confused her to the point where she was going insane. When she was hit by one of them, it was like a tsunami. It overwhelmed her and concurred her. When she hated it, she could never imagine loving it. When she loved it, she couldn’t imagine hating it. It was like flipping a coin. It was one side or the other, it never rested at the edge. 

So not only did she have to wait for the right opportunity to end this, she also had to hope her mind was at the right side of the coin when it did occur.


	16. Chapter 16

“Morning,” Dean grabbed her chin and planted a kiss on her lips before he got out of bed. As long as she didn’t try to turn her head away and deny the kiss, he accepted the fact that she didn’t pout her lips for him. 

As the other days, Dean chained her to the table when they were about to eat breakfast. He placed the four brown pills in front of her and she took them without asking what it was, as he wouldn’t tell her anyway. She swallowed the pills and Dean instantly checked her mouth to see if she really had swallowed them. 

“I’m not gonna go before noon or so today,” Dean said halfway through their breakfast.

“Okay,” Natasha said with a shrug. It had become a habit to answer him. Even statements that didn’t require an answer. Though she thought it was a bit weird. He had woken her at six like usual. Or the usual was between 5:30 and 6. Why so early if he hadn't planned on leaving early too? 

After breakfast, she asked Dean if she was allowed to take a shower by herself. Her voice sounded dead and submissive. To her surprise, he let her, but he locked the door. 

It was a relief to get the padded cuffs off. When Natasha was about to wash her hair, she noticed something different. There was a new bottle of shampoo. And not just the cheapest one from the store and a bottle of conditioner too. That hadn't been there before. With a shrug, she pushed it aside. 

As she finished drying herself, she wrapped the towel around her body before she knocked on the door to let Dean know she was done. A few moments later, the door unlocked and she opened it but stopped as she was about to leave the bathroom. In front of the door on the floor was a pile of black clothes. A lot more than just one set. On top of the pile were a comb, facial cream, and body lotion. Dean was leaning against the backrest of the couch as he watched her. 

When she kneeled down and looked closer, she found out there were four sets of clothing consisting of more black leggings – not the see-through kind and black tank tops. She noticed there were no long-sleeved shirts and wondered about it for a few seconds. He had gotten her everything else, so why not long-sleeved shirts too?

“Thank you.” She automatically said without looking in Dean’s direction as she grabbed one set of clothes along with the lotion and comb before retreating to the bathroom again. Not five seconds passed by before the lock clicked again. 

She was less enthusiastic about this than she would have been just a week ago. It was nice of him, sure. But her mood was at such a low point, she didn’t really care what she wore, or if her skin needed the care, or if she had to comb her hair with her fingers or not. She had gotten used to not having much. It should annoy her, she knew it should, but it just didn’t. The only feelings she had been able to experience the last couple of days was indifference or fear. And the love-hate relationship she had with her stomach. Now that the thought crossed her mind, she put a hand on her lower abdomen and sighed. 

“You are trouble.” She whispered to it. Love was the strongest today. Or should she say, right now? In half an hour, she could be feeling the exact opposite about the thing that inhabited her body. Though most of the times, she tried to forget that she was pregnant. It was easy to ignore when she wasn’t showing yet. 

With her index and middle finger, she tried poking around to see if she could feel anything. If she pressed hard enough right around her bladder, she was actually able to feel something hard. It was about the size of a half orange, but no matter how she looked at herself in the mirror, she couldn’t spot any physical changes yet. 

“I’m gonna take you away from here. One way or the other.” She whispered to her stomach before she started combing her long brown hair. 

For a short period, she enjoyed the simple happiness in combing her hair with a real comb. Such ordinary things as a proper facial cream and a comb were enough to make her look a little better in the mirror. Maybe the conditioner helped give her hair a little shine, which made her look healthier than she felt. 

When she couldn’t prolong it any longer, she knocked on the door and Dean let her out. Dean had clearly not moved since he unlocked the door. He blocked the doorframe and from his index finger dangled the padded handcuffs. “Put these on.” He demanded. There was a trace of a smug smile lurking at the edges of his lips, but his eyes were slightly narrowed, making him look like she had done something to piss him off. 

With a resigned, “okay,” she took the handcuffs from him and put them on her wrists. Dean grabbed her hands to check if she had clicked the padlocks properly on them so they were locked. 

After checking them, he snapped, “Come.” And led her to the bedroom where he showed her which shelf she could put her things on. Then he dragged her to the kitchen. There was a tall cupboard in one end of the kitchen, where the vacuum and other cleaning stuff were. He handed her a washbowl with soap water and a cloth. “Make yourself useful and wipe off all flat surfaces.” He ordered in a cutting tone. 

While she cleaned all the surfaces, Dean vacuumed. There were a few shelves with books and other things along with a wooden cabinet at the same end of the room as the TV and couch. As the last thing, she wiped off the small cabinet. There were three drawers in it. Natasha threw a casual glance over her shoulder and saw Dean was in the kitchen with his back towards her. Out of curiosity, she opened the top drawer. 

There was scotch tape, extra buttons, an old cell phone charger, an instruction booklets for the TV, some assorted nickels, a couple of screws in a tiny plastic bag, looking like it was leftovers from the shelves, but the thing that was on top of it and immediately caught her attention was a stack of photos. 

The first one was of a family of four. It looked old. There was a blonde woman holding a baby that couldn’t be much older than a few months. A man with brown hair and eyes were holding her and a blonde boy around the age of four. They were all smiling and looking so happy. 

She picked them all up and looked at the next photo that was of the blonde woman hugging the four or five-year-old boy from the previous picture. 

The next was of the man and woman alone. The fourth made her stop. It was of Dean. He was younger, maybe in his middle or late twenties. He was next to a man that looked like he was a couple of years younger with brown hair and he was taller, but they had the same eyes. They were both laughing in the picture, but not to the camera. It looked like it had been taken without their knowledge while they were having a great time. Natasha looked back at the other photos. The blonde boy… now that she looked closer, she could see the resemblance. The blonde boy in the pictures was Dean. 

The next picture was again of Dean and what she thought was his brother. On this picture, they were sitting at the dinner table, smiling to the camera. 

Was this his family? 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Dean thundered behind her, making her drop all the pictures on the floor. 

“I-I… I’m sorry, it’s just… I was just…” Natasha nervously stuttered as she quickly with shaking hands gathered the pictures on the floor, hurled them back into the drawer, and closed it. 

By her shoulder, he pushed her back against the wall as she stood up. “Do _not_ go through my fucking things.” He growled with a pointed finger as a threat. The irritation evident in his voice. His hand was still on her shoulder, keeping her pressed against the wall. 

“I’m sorry,” Natasha whispered in a frail and timid voice. She couldn’t meet his gaze for more than a fleeting glimpse at a time. He was gonna punish her, she was sure of it. His whole posture let her know how agitated and pissed he was about it. 

She squeezed her eyes shut and crossed her arms over her stomach, waiting for his attack with trembling breath. 

Then Dean sighed and spoke with more gentleness, though there was still a ring of exasperation in his voice, “Don’t do it again.” 

His hand left her shoulder, and it wasn’t until she heard him walk away she dared to open her eyes. Her shoulders slumped as she drew in a strengthening breath. He wasn’t going to punish her? She had been so sure of it. Of course, she was relieved, but his mercurial behavior confused her. She never knew what she could expect. Or she had always expected punishment and abuse, and she couldn’t understand why it had changed. He never missed an opportunity to punish her. Even when she tried to throw out an apple core without permission, he had become so aggressive. Now, he just dismissed it. 

After the surge of fear that had passed through her at the prospect of punishment, she was left indifferent again. With her gaze directed at the floor, she went to the kitchen to clean the now dirty washbowl. 

Dean made lunch and after they finished, she was locked in the bedroom and Dean left. 

The more time she spent in the darkness, the less she minded. Everything had become so insignificant. She watches as the minutes passed by, but she couldn’t keep her mind quiet for too long at a time. Her thoughts kept returning to her stomach. As it was right now, she felt filthy and infected by Dean. It was probably gonna be a demon spawned parasite that was going to ruin other people’s lives, just like Dean had ruined hers. This world didn’t need more demons. Carrying a monster like that inside her was a disservice to the whole world. Natasha would do everything in her power to stop more evil from populating the world. She just didn’t know how yet. The anger and determination vanished. It was impossible to hold on to it longer than that. Her energy levels had been drained from day one and now there was barely anything left. She was so tired and beaten, she just wanted it to end. 

To distract herself, she thought back on the photos she had found. She was almost 100% sure the people in the pictures were his family. For some time, she occupied herself with questions like, what was his family like? Were any of them like him? The pictures were very peaceful and happy, looking like a perfect family. You could see the pictures weren’t set up. The smiles reached their eyes and you could see them shine. The smiles weren’t fake, they were happy. She wondered what had happened to them and what had happened to Dean since he was like this now. How he could be such a monster when it looked like he had a loving family. 

 

Dean pushed the knife into the demon from under his jaw, twisted it, and then let go to break his neck, even though he was already flashing and crackling after the demon-killing knife, but he just couldn’t help himself. Killing nice and clean wasn’t his style. He wanted more. 

As the Abaddon groupie he had just killed, fell to the ground, Dean sensed someone approaching him from behind as he tore the knife out of the dead demon. He spun around and knocked the demon off its feet. With a groan, the demon landed on the ground on its back and Dean hammered the knife deep into the female chest. The crackling and flashing when a demon died was sweet music to his ears. He pulled the knife out of its chest and kept stabbing it to get the full rush out of his bloodlust as the blood splattered over him, the now dead demon, and the ground. The blood pooled around the dead body from the stab wounds in the chest. With a sleight of hand, he sliced its throat and stabbed one of its eyes. The flow of blood from the wounds quieted down as the body was nearly drained of blood. 

“Dean!” Crowley yelled from behind him. Dean rolled his eyes before turning around. 

Crowley was struggling with two demons, his own bodyguard demons hadn't survived. On the other hand, his bodyguards were always dispensable. 

For a moment, he paused. If he didn’t intervene, Crowley would be finished. He couldn’t handle two as aggressive as they were. 

_Maybe I should just lit a cigarette and watch the show,_ he thought to himself. But then the reasonable part of him stepped in. Management wasn’t his interest. And if Crowley died, he would have to make his position clear to whoever would take Crowley’s place and it was just too much work. Keeping Crowley alive would be the most convenient. For now. 

“Do I really have to do everything myself?” Dean grumbled to himself as he leaped forward and with a fist reinforced by the knife in his grip, he punched the first demon and hit its temple, sending it reeling to the side away from Crowley. 

He parried a blow from the second demon that had turned its attention to him instead of Crowley and retaliated with a swing of the knife, grazing the demon’s arm. It wasn’t enough to kill it. The blade had to be buried in the demon to finish it off. 

A pain around his left shoulder blade brought Dean to his knees, giving the demon in front of him time enough to hit his jaw and sent him to the ground. With his right hand, he fumbled behind his shoulder until his hand closed around the handle of the knife that was buried in his back. He pulled it out just in time to use it to block the first demons attempt to stab him again with another knife. 

“That was fucking stupid, you son of a bitch.” He growled as he, with a knife in each hand, cut in a cross-like motion and slit the demon’s stomach open enough to make him take a few steps back, giving Dean enough time to lash out at the second demon, making him jump back. He got to his feet, and went after them again, redoubling his efforts. Dean dodged the fist coming at him, got a steely grasp of its striking arm, and buried the knife in its chest. He didn’t have time to maim his body. The other demon was still alive, quickly recovering from Dean’s attack. Gathering momentum, he collided into the last demon, which sent them both to the ground and he lost his grip of one of the knives. Dean ended on top, straddling it and with both hands on the handle of the demon-killing knife, he put all his weight behind as he planted the knife in the demon’s throat. It flashed and crackled for a few seconds before it became immovable. 

“I’m gonna fucking teach you not to stab me.” Dean pushed out through clenched teeth as he kept stabbing and hitting the corpse. 

“I think he is dead, Dean,” Crowley said calmly from behind him and felt him lay a hand on his shoulder. 

Dean turned around so fast and ornery with a bestial sneer that Crowley took a step back with both hands raised. “I am _not_ done,” Dean yelled furiously. Crowley and he stared at each other for a few seconds while Dean panted so heavily, his whole body moved for each breath. 

In his red frenzy driven by his bloodlust, he kept beating and maiming the demon beneath him until he was unrecognizable. Dean got up, only to throw himself at the last whole Abaddon groupie and released his untamed desire to dismember something. 

“Are you… done?” Crowley asked with the same amount of awkwardness as if he had just caught him jacking off. 

Dean closed his eyes and inhaled heavily. A shudder coursed through him as the feverish adrenaline and blood-intoxication still pounded through his veins. “Yes,” He exhaled powerfully before he let his head tilt back and cracked it to both sides. The wound on his shoulder was already healed. There was only a slight stiffness left in his muscles. 

He wiped off his knife in Crowley’s black trench coat as he passed him and put the knife in its sheath. Dean leaned against the brick wall in the alley where he found his pack of Marlboro from his back pocket and lit one. Drawing a deep breath through the filter, he felt how it calmed the deranging thirst for violence and the adrenaline pumping through him like a drug. 

“You know, it’s a disgusting habit you’ve evolved,” Crowley noted as he wrinkled his nose. 

From behind his back, Dean drew his favorite Colt with an engraved slide and ivory grips and shot Crowley in the shoulder without barely looking at him. 

“What the bloody hell?” Crowley exclaimed and pressed a hand to his shoulder. Not that it hurt him particularly, but it did shock him. 

“Stop telling me what to do.” Dean snapped. He didn’t like using the gun that much. It was too clean of a kill. But it could sometimes come in handy as a distraction. 

“I wasn’t telling you to do anything. I simply pointed out your not-so-charming habit.” Crowley said with an equal mix of appall and offend. 

“Indicating you don’t approve of it, ergo trying to go all Dolores Umbridge on me,” Dean said more calmly. The nicotine was working its way through his system and calmed the thunder inside him. 

“Did you just make a Harry Potter reference?” Crowley said with raised eyebrows and donned an uncertain smile.

“Shut up, or I’m gonna shoot you again.” Dean snapped, but there was a playful hint in his tone.

“Actually, dear Umbridge is one of my favorite characters,” Crowley stated matter-of-factly as he tried to preserve his pride. Dean couldn’t hide the lopsided smile pulling at the edges of his lips. 

“Let’s get a drink.” Crowley then said as Dean put out his cigarette. 

 

“I did see you hesitating back there,” Crowley said with a sideways glance at Dean after chugging down the first drink. 

“So you did, huh?” Dean said with a snicker. “But you’re still here.” He turned on the bar stool to face Crowley with a mischievous smile, but there was a menacing hint in his voice. 

“True.” Crowley had to concur. 

“Exactly.” The tone in Dean’s voice made it clear the subject was closed. 

 

“Do you wanna know why there had been so much inconsistency in my work hours lately?” Dean suddenly said after five or six more drinks. 

“I know it’s because of your little pretty toy,” Crowley said amusedly. 

Dean felt his jaw clench when Crowley referred to Nat as his toy. Why was it bothering him? It pissed him off that he couldn’t find an answer to that question. He took a breath to loosen his shoulders and said instead, “She’s pregnant.” There was a pause just before he said ‘pregnant.’ 

The King of Hell tried to hold back a laughter, but in the end cracked up. Dean sat with an unamused glance and waited until he was done. 

“I’m sorry, Dean. Do you want me to take care of it?” Crowley cleared his throat and composed himself as he corrected his tie. 

“No,” Dean said a little too quickly. To cover it up, he took a large swig of his scotch. When Crowley raised his eyebrows, clearly catching on to something, Dean continued, “It’s a punishment.”

“It sounds like something else.” Crowley insinuated and instantly pressed his lips together to a fine line, knowing he might have gone over the line. 

“Really? What does it sound like exactly?” Dean said low and acerbically. Of course, Crowley didn’t answer, so he went on to explaining himself, something he normally never did. “She didn’t wanna get knocked up so I said I was gonna. You know how I am with threats.” 

“Oh, yeah.” Crowley agreed too hastily, then gulped, and looked anywhere else than him. 

“I said if she wanted it, I was gonna kill it inside of her. If she hated it, I said she should carry to term.” Dean told him, though he couldn’t really control the modulation of his voice. He went on when Crowley remained silent. “But I don’t know how she feels about it. Sometimes she puts a hand on her stomach and other times she scowls at it. You should have seen when she found out. She went cuckoo for cocoa pops.” He ended the sentence with a headshake, a raised eyebrow, and a resigned expression. 

Crowley was silent for so long, Dean thought he wasn’t going to answer, but then he said in a low careful voice, “Isn’t that a little harsh, even for you?”

Dean fixed him an irate stare, but then with slumped shoulders, he dared to say, “Maybe.” 

 

“Hey, slut! I’m home!” Dean yelled as the front door slammed, sending Natasha three feet into the air in pure shock. A quick glance at the clock told her it was close to midnight. 

She had been asleep, but instantly the growing fear spiked through her system. This didn’t sound good. This didn’t sound good at all with the entrance he was making. He never yelled like that just because he was home. The door to the bedroom didn’t open immediately. It sounded like he had trouble opening it. 

After almost half a minute, the door was kicked open with such a force Natasha jumped three feet again. Her heart thudded against her ribcage and her breathing was already shaky. This didn’t look good for her. 

Dean leaned against the doorframe. “Missed me?” He grinned and sent her an air kiss and a wink. His words sounded slurred. 

He was drunk.

A quiet whimper seeped over Natasha’s lips as he approached the bed.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **ATTENTION! EDITED CHAPTER!**  
>  The ones of you that read 'authors note' know that my sisters 9 budgies interfered with my focus last week. I didn't want to let you down, so I did my best and posted on time. But I wasn't completely satisfied with this chapter. So now I've rewritten it, and now I'm satisfied with it.   
> I know this isn't normally like me, but I'm only human, though a perfectionistic one. And I'm sorry you had to experience a chapter I wasn't satisfied with. Hope you still like it. I love you all, and every one of you, my readers, is appreciated.   
> Also, Chapter 18 might get a little delayed. Count on posting Thursday at the latest.

“I’ve looked forward to getting home to you,” Dean said with a lopsided smile like he really meant it when he stopped at the bedside and let his hand stroke her hair. 

Natasha swallowed loudly at his gentle caress. She had a feeling that being drunk made him more unpredictable than he already was though there was no sign of threat or taunting in his features or his voice. 

“Mmm,” Dean chuckled as he watched her discomfort, “You’re daddy’s little good girl.” He stroked her cheek as he patronizingly praised her before unhooking her handcuffs from the head of the bed and lowered them in front of her. Natasha’s eyes widened in surprise. In her bewilderment, she didn’t even try anything. With a key from his pocket, he opened both cuffs and tossed them to the floor. 

Natasha scrutinized Dean warily as she rubbed her wrists. His head was tilted to the side and he looked down on her with narrowed eyes. A cunning smirk played at the tips of his lips. Then he tilted his head to the other side, making him look more like a predator evaluating the best approach for the killing bite. 

For almost a minute, they just stared at each other. Natasha stiff, awaiting his attack, Dean thoughtfully, and hungrily playing with his lower lip. Without a warning, he latched onto her upper arm, causing her to let out a shocked scream, and pulled her up to her knees in front of him on the bed where he grabbed the hem of the flannel she was wearing and ripped it over her head. She fought to keep it on, but he just pulled harder. Before the shirt landed on the floor, he gave her a hard push that made her fall to her back on the bed with a whine. Dean crawled on the bed to grab the waistband of her pants and panties. Natasha tried to push and kick him away out of sheer instinct, but he barely noticed her struggle and tore them off her. 

She knew it was useless, but she grabbed one of the duvets to cover herself anyway. Dean had crawled off the bed and stood at the side of it again as he looked at her like before. Like he was a predator and she was his prey. Natasha clutched onto the duvet as she anxiously returned his gaze from across the bed. She was sitting at the edge. If she moved just an inch back, she would fall backward out of the bed. 

“Are you afraid?” Dean asked in a low calculating voice with a hint of amusement. 

His question confused her. Of course, she was afraid. She swallowed thickly before nodding and whispered, “Yes.” Knowing he always wanted a verbal response, though the words stuck in her throat. 

“You don’t have to be. You are gonna play along and we’re gonna have some fun. Or you can be a little bitch, and I’ll flip you over and take you in your ass. Got it? Do as I say and I’ll leave your ass alone.” Dean told her in the same low tone that didn’t change a bit throughout the sentences. The only change was him tipping his head back to look further down on her than he already did. His devious and threatening voice made it clear he wasn’t joking and he would make her comply one way or the other. 

Natasha clenched her jaw as the powerlessness washed through her. “Okay,” She finally said. Her tone was sterner and calmer than she felt. She felt defeated. But he would leave her ass alone, at least. She could get through it if she just turned her head to the side until he was done, maybe if she asked him nicely he would use some spit. The only way for her was just to get through it. The less she struggled, the sooner it would be over with, she hoped. 

Dean narrowed his eyes and raised an eyebrow. It was clear he had counted on some resistance from her. “Then lie down and spread your legs.” He made it sound like a dare to see if she really would be as cooperative as she claimed to be. A superior smirk dawned on his face. 

Natasha knew she had no options, but out of habit, she weighted them anyway. After a few seconds, she, with a defeated sigh, scooted down to lie flat on her back, and spread her legs an inch, but made sure the duvet covered as much of her as possible. Dean crawled onto the bed and pushed the duvet aside, his knee pressed between hers, and in one motion, he had spread her legs further and placed himself between them, on top of her. A quiet whimper left Natasha, that was the only objection she could muster, but Dean put his finger to her lips. “Shh. It’ll be good for the baby.” He whispered and then flashed a bright drunken smile.

His right hand shot up and grabbed her jaw, and before she could react, he sealed his lips to hers. Uselessly, she tried to wrench her head out of his grip while keeping her lips tightly pressed together, but Dean didn’t seem to notice it at all. He continued to kiss her wildly and passionately as he moaned. His hips began bucking and stroking his bulge against her. 

His kiss tasted heavily of alcohol, she couldn’t pinpoint what he had been drinking, but it made her want to wrinkle her nose though she barely dared. 

With her legs, she tried to push him back, but he was glued to her and she couldn’t move him. His kissing and rubbing against her became more aggressive as his breathing became heavier and his bulge harder. His tongue tried to pry her lips apart, but she kept her lips pressed together. It didn’t seem to annoy Dean, he simply let his tongue run over her lips, and he kissed her as if he actually had access to her mouth. Swirling his tongue against her lips and around her mouth. It felt close to clumsy. Suddenly, she got a flashback to the first guy she kissed. She had been 14 years old, and there had been tongue everywhere too. For a moment, that thought caused her to stop resisting. 

Her mind quickly fired up and reminded her of where she was, and with who. Her head began jerking to each side with complaining whines as she tried to end the kiss, but Dean didn’t seem to notice, and if he did, he ignored it. Natasha inhaled sharply as the denim hurt her sensitive skin when he rubbed against her. Though her hands were free, they kept lying on the mattress on each side of her head. She wouldn’t risk the consequences of really make an effort of fighting him. 

“I’m gonna be good to you tonight.” Dean moved his lips to her ear and promised. “I think we’ve both deserved some foreplay.” He whispered with a small snicker and then captured her earlobe with his teeth. All traces of taunt and menace were absent. Natasha tried jerking away from him and his alcohol breath as a shudder of anxiety ran through her. His turning-on-a-dime behavior made her cautious and confused her. She didn’t know what to expect, which made it much worse somehow. One minute, he brutally ripped off her clothes, the next he said he was going to be good to her. 

Honestly, she didn’t want to find out what ‘being good to her’ meant. 

Dean cupped her face and forced her to look at him. “I’m gonna be so fucking good to you.” He sneered so aggressively, you’d think he meant the opposite of what he was saying. His contradicting words and tone confused Natasha even more. Anxiously and uneasily, she looked back up at him as she had no idea what to expect, and that exhausted her. She just wanted it to be over with, not play cat and mouse in one of his sick games. 

Suddenly he let go of her and hastily crawled down on her, placing himself between her legs, and began kissing where the waistline of her panties would have been if she had still worn any. She frowned and looked down at him. Then she realized what Dean was about to do when his lips traveled south.

Oh no, how humiliating could it get? She bit her lower lip as her face reddened. Her body stiffened the closer he got, her hands balling into fists as she squeezed her eyes shut again while she did everything in her power to just lie still with closed eyes. The thought, ‘it could be worse,’ comforted her. At first, when she noticed he was drunk, she had feared he would be much more bestial and primal with her, spurred on by the alcohol as when he tore off her clothes, but that didn’t seem to be the case all the way through. She nearly breathed a shaking sigh of relief when he stopped just above the line of hair that had grown while she had been here since she didn’t have a razor. 

“Ow!” Natasha whined as Dean tugged on the hair between her legs with his thumb and index finger. Unconsciously, she tried to close her legs, but they were stopped by Dean’s shoulders. 

“You really need a shave down here, you know. I can barely tell what’s what.” He chuckled slurred. There was only a hint of dissatisfaction in his voice. “Maybe I should buy you a razor so you can be all nice and smooth for me.” He let a finger run through her locks as the lust became more evident in his voice. “I like my girls shaved, actually, and as I recall, you were so nicely shaved when we met.” 

To her own regret, she looked down at him and was met with a hungry look in his green eyes as his tongue lustfully traced over his lips like it was preparing for what he was about to do. A smirk was playing around the edges of his lips. He knew exactly what he was doing, how he was playing with her. It was clear it was his intention to make her self-conscious and uncomfortable. 

Natasha had always been fully shaved and she liked it. She had tried to push it aside while she had been here and honestly, it hadn't bothered her that much up until now. What had bothered her most was the hair under her arms. She didn’t feel quite clean when her armpits weren’t shaved, but it was easy to live with compared to everything else. 

Dean’s gaze dropped from hers and scrutinized her sex. Natasha felt her cheeks flush even redder as she leaned her head back with closed eyes. She felt so exposed and knowing how he was closely examining her with his eyes made her squirm nervously. 

Dean gave her a solid lick right on her sweetest spot that made her body jolt with a half-moan, half-whimper over the sudden unexpected and firm touch. Her knees clamped together only to be stopped by Dean’s broad shoulders and her hands instantly laid on them to push him away, but he wouldn’t budge. 

“Stop fighting or I’m tying you up so good you can’t even blink unless I allow it.” Dean sneered threatening. His hands latched onto her knees and forced her legs so far apart, she could feel it stretch the muscles on her inner thigh. 

A whimper of powerlessness seeped past her lips as her hands fell to the mattress and her legs stopped resisting him. 

“Good girl.” Dean praised in an almost soothing voice and gave her another solid lick that made her jolt again with a gasp. She managed to stop her hands before they tried to push him away again. They balled into fists as they stopped mid-air, then fell back on the mattress in defeat. 

“If I get hair in my mouth, I’m blaming you,” Dean grumbled before his lips closed around her sweetest spot and briskly started working on her. Sucking and waving his tongue over her.

“Oh, shit!” Natasha exclaimed desperately and ashamed as a pang of unanticipated pleasure traveled through her. This was different than when he used his fingers or rubbed his bulge against her. With his fingers or bulge, it was just uncomfortable. But she couldn’t deny the physical stimulation his soft and agile tongue provided, though she didn’t want it and her mind tried to fight it. But her body undeniably responded to the delicate stimuli he gave her. 

 

A smirk spread on Dean’s face as he worked on her. Assessing his power over her filled him in his drunk state. After he became a demon he had never been much of a giver, but Nat was different. That much he had to admit though he would never say it aloud. And this was a whole new way of exercising his dominance over her. Stating to her that he could make her do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. 

Or that was what his drunk mind told him. Suddenly, he had no clue why he was doing this, but he was stubborn enough to see it through. A part of him scolded him. Asking questions about what he was doing. He was a demon. He didn’t give – he took. But the other part reveled in how uncomfortable he made Nat. He liked tormenting her, and this was a new way to do it though it was a lot of effort. Too much for him to consider it another time, actually. He knew with himself that he would never had done this if he hadn't been drunk. But now he had started and he was too stubborn to stop now. 

When a little moan sneaked into her frail protesting, he bit her, right on her most sensitive spot. 

“Ow! Ow! Ow!” She whined and Dean felt her body jolt and wiggle in pain, causing a smug smile to dawn on his lips as he let her go. 

Instantly, he sucked, making Nat inhale sharply as it probably still stung. It didn’t take long before her body showed signs of pleasure mixed with the shame he could see reddened her cheeks. It was clear she didn’t want to submit to him, but she couldn’t fight his skilled tongue. With the fight she always put up, he doubted she had ever had a spark of pleasure when he fucked her. Not like that freak amber-haired-girl he once met at a bar. 

A pang of irritation rushed through him and he turned his head to set his teeth into the flesh of her inner thigh. Nat whined out as she tried to wrench free, but Dean just bit harder and Nat cried louder. 

As quickly as it had come, the irritation cooled down again, and he let her thigh go to continue licking her. His anger, frustration, and irritation that was always roaming in him had all been released when he had been out with Crowley. Slaughtering demons with Crowley was the perfect outlet for everything pent-up inside of him. And tonight, the group of Abaddon supporters had been bigger than normally. Which, along with the alcohol, made Dean more patient in his torment and teasing of Nat. 

A whimpering moan left Nat. Clearly a protest over the pleasure he was giving her. Dean couldn’t help but smirk when he felt her uncomfortable squirming. Every fiber of her body tried to deny it. But she would never be able to deny him in any way. He would make sure of it. She was his! His possessiveness made him bite her most sensitive spot again, and she cried out.

 

“Ow! Ow!” Natasha whimpered as Dean’s teeth desecrated her sex. Her back arched in pain as her legs curled up around Dean. “Please stop… I don’t want this…” She begged while still inhaling sharp breaths of pain. 

Finally, Dean’s teeth let go, leaving her softest spot throbbing, and smarting. It only made her even more sensitive when his tongue resumed its work on her. Soon, her knees bent as her hips tilted out of her control. She tried to back away from him, but his hands sneaked under her thighs and grabbed onto her hips to keep her in place. As she writhed, whimpers mixed with gasps and unwilling moans spilled from her lips. She grabbed onto Dean’s hair to make him stop, but he only stopped for a second to moan, “Oh yes, grab my hair.” And then continued on her after giving her a less hard bite where Natasha cried out. 

“No, Dean… please, stop…” She whimpered feebly through clenched teeth. How long had it been since she has an orgasm? Before she ended up here, she played with herself a couple of times a week, but after not having touched herself or gotten a release for so long, she was hypersensitive and her body open for stimulation. Even for something she didn’t want. Even after Dean had hurt her by biting her. You’d think it would be desensitizing, but when the worst stinging calmed, it had the opposite effect, increasing her hypersensitivity further. Her mind and body fought a thundering battle inside her as Dean mercilessly continued. 

“Dean, please stop…” Natasha begged as she wiggled under him, fruitlessly trying to escape. In response to her tugging at his hair, he bit her most sensitive spot again, causing Natasha to let out a pained scream as her body stiffened like a taut bow. 

“Stop fighting and fucking enjoy the effort I put into this, you little ungrateful bitch!” Dean snarled as his teeth let her go, leaving Natasha panting of pain. “We’re gonna lie here until you come for me, end of discussion. If that means I have to tie you up or keep going for an hour, so help me, I _will_ do it.” He added menacingly before his mouth attacked her most sensitive and now throbbing spot. 

A defenseless sobbing moan escaped her as he uncompromisingly sucked and licked her. His hands still had a steely grip on her hips, keeping her in place. The thought of faking it roamed her mind, and she considered the possibility of him finding out, and punish her. 

His right hand then let go and two fingers entered her damp folds. Natasha let out a hesitating yelp by the intrusion. 

Dean paused as he lifted his head an inch, “And don’t bother trying to fake it. I can _feel it_ if you do.” He threatened as if he had heard her thoughts and ducked again to let his lips close around her. 

What was the use? She could surrender to him and what he did to her body and it would be over sooner, or she could fight, but she knew he would relentlessly keep going until he had his way. Her body was so sensitive and it wanted the touch even when it came from him, but her mind knew everything that was wrong with this and she knew how ashamed it would make her feel to succumb to him. But what choice did she have? She was exhausted of constantly fighting him. She gave up and let go. 

With closed eyes, Natasha leaned her head back. She only focused on the touch, not who delivered it. Her fingers in his hair relaxed as a weak sighing moan spilled from her lips. The heat pooled in her lower abdomen as his hot mouth worked on her. Soon her hips twisted in pleasure and not to escape him. Her back arched from the mattress as her moans became stronger and her hands grabbed his hair in pleasure now. 

She didn’t want this, but she had the power to get it over with faster, so that was what she choose. With everything in her, she pushed aside the fact that it was Dean working on her. In her mind, she made him an amorphous figure instead. After Dean was shut completely out of her mind, it didn’t take long before Natasha could let completely go and now tumbled towards her release. Her legs trembled stronger and stronger until they quivered against Dean’s shoulders, causing him to moan appreciatively as his hips bucked to stroke himself against the bed. 

Her breathing became rapider and filled with more ragged, breathy moans until she stiffened as her insides convulsed and she threw her head back with a whine as the pleasure she thought was long consigned to oblivion, throbbed through her. Already, she was feeling the shame before her orgasm had left her. Dean, of all people, had just made her come. Not even the strong release and her string of breathy moans could push that aside. 

Her body had reacted more quickly and powerfully to it than she had expected, only because that part of her had been dormant since she had been captured. 

Dean’s lips and tongue continued working on her, sucking and licking her without a stop as she squirmed under him for as long as it lasted. As her squirming and ashamed whimpering quieted down, Dean continued to lick her, and now she squirmed in discomfort, as she was too sensitive. 

“Dean… Dean, please stop now…” She begged in a frail voice. A couple of tears had brimmed over in her eyes and her hands tugged at his hair to push him back. 

He gave her a last powerful suck that made her whimper loudly before he finally stopped and wiped his mouth on her inner thigh with a sigh. 

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He taunted as he pulled his fingers out of her. “Stay.” He ordered as he crawled back to the edge of the bed and stood up. As soon as his body left hers, she closed her legs. Her hands covered her blooming face and she let her elbows cover her breasts. She bit so hard down on her lower lip to prevent the sobs that she broke the skin. 

Shortly, Dean rummaged around under the bed. When he straightened up, she saw through her fingers that a pair of regular handcuffs dangled from his index finger. “Put these on.” He demanded. 

Natasha sniffed, her face still crimson, but then slowly got on her knees to do as she was told. She took the handcuffs and clicked them on her wrists in front of her. Her sight was blurred from the tears she tried to keep at bay. 

When the second handcuff clicked on her right wrists, Dean pulled her forward, and down on the floor. Natasha tumbled to the floor and landed on her side with a thud and a whimper. Her upper body never impacted with the floor as Dean still had a grip on the chain, and by it, he dragged her to her knees in front of him. 

As Dean kneeled, he grabbed onto a fistful of her hair to force her to keep looking at him. “You’re a little slut, you know that?” He told her in a condescending tone. Natasha had to clench her teeth to stop herself from wrinkling her nose of his alcohol breath. 

He let go of the chain and let two of his fingers run between her legs, making her flinch at the contact. “Look how wet you are for me.” Dean mocked and held his wet fingers in front of her. 

Natasha only looked at his fingers to satisfy him to make things go faster, but Dean didn’t seem like he was in a hurry to be done with her. “Open your mouth.” He demanded with a fiendish smirk. 

Dutifully, she opened her mouth and closed her eyes. Dean led his wet fingers into her mouth and began moving them back and forth. Pushing them so far back in her throat, she gagged. With everything in her, she ignored the taste on his fingers and what had caused it, but still her cheeks couldn’t shake off the redness. 

“You look so good sucking on something. I think you need something else to suck on, baby.” Dean said slowly with a voice heavy with threat and lust. As he pulled his fingers out of her mouth, he stood up. “Open my jeans.” He demanded with a cunning smirk and tilted his hips forward. 

Why couldn’t he just get it over with? Why did he have to drag it out and play with her like this? Natasha thought distraught. “Please…” She begged in a whisper as the hot tears rose in her eyes. She was so tired. 

“Undo my fucking jeans and pull them down.” Dean sneered low and threatening. When Natasha stole a frantic glance up at him, she saw his right hand was raised, ready to slap her. 

With a defeated sigh and a tear rolling down her cheek, she reached up, unbuttoned, and unzipped his jeans. Before she proceeded to pull them down, she begged in a broken voice, “Can’t you just…” Natasha sniveled and swallowed thickly before continuing with dark red cheeks, “… fuck me, and get it over with?” She sniffed again and dared to look up at him with a small sprout of hope in her teary eyes. 

Dean’s right hand reached down and stroked her cheek tenderly. For a moment, the hope grew in her as she watched his expression soften, but his next words shattered every trace of hope she felt, “Oh no, sweetheart, you’re way too fun to play with.” A cruel mischievous smile dawned on his lips as a glint of raw lust gleamed in his eyes. 

“Dean, please… Just tonight…” Natasha begged, but her voice was deprived of any hope. Begging him was as strong an instinct as fighting him, but all her resources were about to be used up. 

“Pull my jeans down now or I’ll flip you over and rape the hell out of your ass. Maybe slap you around a little too and see how much that thing inside you can handle. After all, I can always just knock you up again.” Dean’s tone was calm, but every word were dipped in pure menace, while his right hand cupped her face and let his thumb stroke her lower lip. 

Pure fear slithered down her spine. Had he no conscience? Beating a pregnant woman and killing a fetus? No, he was a demon. There was no hope for her. 

She drew in a trembling breath and pulled his jeans and boxers down. She never thought she would comply with this little resistance, but the last flame of defiance that burned in her, burned out. Her hands fell from to the floor as her head dropped in defeat. 

“Grab it,” Dean demanded. As in a sedated trance, Natasha reached up and wrapped her hand around his member without raising her gaze. A shudder of disgust ran through her as she felt the blood pounding in it. 

“Take my dick in your mouth or I’m gonna slap your face with it.” Dean mocked without mercy. “And no biting. Remember what happened last time you bit me?” He snapped before she could do as he said. 

She remembered far too well. That was why she sat here in this hell. A feeble sob was pressed over her lips before she, with closed eyes, parted her lips and took him in her mouth. 

Dean let out a raw moan as her lips wrapped around him. Both his hands grabbed onto her hair and pushed him deeper into her mouth. “Mmm, it feels so good, little slut.” Slowly he bucked his hips, moving him in and out of her mouth as he held her head in place by her hair. “Use some tongue, baby. It’s the least you can do after I did something for you. Oh yeah, I did something for you and now you’re doing something for me. Come on, work your lips over me, baby.” Dean taunted with raw moans. 

Dean pressed himself deeper and deeper into her mouth, causing the tears in her eyes to brim over and streak down her cheeks. At first, his rhythm was slow, but as he pushed deeper in, making her gag, he increased his tempo. 

Natasha’s hand around him fell to his thighs to try to push him back when he held still at the back of her throat where she couldn’t breathe. He didn’t pull back before her whole body was twitching by the lack of air. With a whine, she inhaled as much air through her nose as she could, but Dean didn’t hold still long enough for her to catch her breath before he began thrusting in a hard pace into her. He yanked her head down over him as his hips jolted forward, pressing him down her throat, only to pull back a little slower before he forced himself hard and deep into her mouth again. 

Her struggling was weak. She couldn’t find the strength to fight to get him out of her mouth. Her hands still laid on his thighs to keep him back, but she pushed so weakly, she doubted Dean could even feel it. Protesting and broken whimpers and whines left her but was muffled by his member. 

His right hand moved down to stroke her wet and heated cheek while his left still had a vise-like grip on her hair and continued his hard rhythm into her mouth without a stop. “You’re a little slut.” He derided and gave her a tap on her cheek. “I just made you come for me. I know you put up this act about not wanting what I do to you. But if you really hate it that much, how come I could make you come? It didn’t even take that long.” He let out a fiendish chuckle as he patronized her. 

Natasha felt her cheeks scorching with shame by his words and she begged he would be done soon. She couldn’t take anymore, and he kept giving her cheek small patronizing slaps. 

“Mmm, yeah, suck a little more, slut. Ah, your mouth feels so good. One day I’m gonna come so hard in your mouth, but it’s not gonna be today. I have other plans for you tonight.” His heavy breath were filled with throaty moans as he hammered into her mouth. Natasha’s quiet sobbing obstructed her breathing further. 

_Please, just be done soon…_ she begged in her mind. The taste of him made her want to retch, but his length going in and out of her mouth wouldn’t allow it. In her weak struggling where she tried to endure it, she lost track of how long he fucked her mouth. 

Now both his hands latched onto her hair to force his member as deep into her throat as he could and held still. A shiver coursed through him because of her gagging and his head tilted back to enjoy it. Natasha wiggled and tried to push back to get some air as her lungs burned for it. “Mmm, I think that’s enough now.” He moaned and let her hair go. Without his hold, Natasha’s struggling for air made her fall to her back on the carpet with a heavily panting whimper. 

Dean grabbed the chain of her handcuffs and snapped, “Get up.” But his command was needless, as he had already dragged her to her knees. His free hand roughly stroked her wet cheek before pulling her to her feet, so he could grab her ass and lift her up with her legs around his waist. Natasha let out several whines of shock as he threw her around like she weighed nothing. 

“Put your hands behind my neck.” He ordered. There was still a slight slur to his words and his breath stank of alcohol. Reluctantly, she lifted her arms to get the chain behind his neck. A sob interrupted her sniveling before her hands were in place. 

“Come on, it’ll be good for the baby.” Dean teased with a sly smile. He walked the few steps to the wall and pressed her against it. With an arm hooked around her waist, he repositioned her and she felt him guide his member to her folds. She was still wet from her shameful orgasm. 

“You are gonna kiss me while I fuck you, otherwise, my dick could easily slip into the wrong hole.” He whispered menacingly against her lips. She nearly wrinkled her nose as his hot breath hit her skin. Dean pressed his lips crudely to hers as he let her sink down on his hard length. Both his hands had a vise-like grip on her ass. 

Natasha whined into the kiss and to her surprise, Dean released her lips when he was fully inside her. “Mmm, you’ve never been this wet before. Oh, it feels good. So good.” He moaned breathily and then sealed his lips back to hers as he began thrusting into her. The kiss was as earlier. She kept her lips pressed together, but he still kissed her rapaciously with tongue like he was playing with her tongue and not just over her tight-lipped mouth. 

Her long brown hair bounced as her body jumped from each thrust, making her back scrape against the wall, releasing muffled whimpers as she kept her lips closed at all cost. 

He pushed himself harsh and fast into her. The fact that she was still wet from when he licked her meant that it wasn’t as painful as it could sometimes be with his well-endowed length, but she far from enjoyed it. 

Dean grunted out his pleasure and exertion as he kept attacking her lips. That she didn’t participate much in the kiss didn’t seem to matter to him. He only let her lips go to catch his breath now and then. His alcohol-stinking breath hit her face hard and she couldn’t fight the urge to turn her head away, but dutifully turned her head back when he began kissing her cheek. 

The next time he released her lips to catch his panting breath, she whispered in a choked voice, “Please kill me…” She couldn’t hold back the few sobs that pressed in her throat. She couldn’t do this anymore. Everything that had already happened to her would only get worse the longer she stayed. She wanted it to end and she doubted more and more than she would ever be able to escape him and this house.

“What?” Dean snapped and stopped thrusting into her. 

“Please kill me…” Her low voice was high in pitch as she pressed the words out through each sob. 

“No, you’re mine and you’ll stay here,” Dean said more softly than she had ever heard before. There was a hint of comfort in his voice too. “Hey,” He said a bit harsher and tapped her cheek to get her to look at him as she had turned her head away again. With tearful eyes, she turned her head back and looked at him, though she could barely see him through her blurry vision. 

Dean placed a close to tender kiss on her lips. All the ferocity was gone. “You’re mine.” He whispered passionately. 

The next thing he did, ruined how seemingly caring he had just acted. He bit her lip right where Natasha had broken the skin earlier, causing her to cry out in pain. It was enough for Dean’s tongue to take advantage and push into her mouth. As he pulled his length back, his hands grabbing her ass, lifted her and did the reverse movement as he pushed into her again, giving his thrust more strength. Dean quickly settled into a rough, fast rhythm that sent him on the last sprint up to his release. He grabbed harder onto her, fighting to thrust deeper and harder into her. Now his lips had to leave hers as his exerted breath trembled and became more strained. Natasha turned her head to the side, but then he panted his pleasure right into her ear. She turned her head back, but she couldn’t stand looking at him pleasing himself inside her, so finally, her forehead dropped to his shoulder instead, where she started sobbing. The jerks that shook her body with each sob seemed to be the last thing to tip Dean over the edge and he came inside her with two deep thrusts and two deep guttural grunts. 

Natasha could feel how every deep breath lifted his shoulders when he stopped moving. A shudder coursed through him before his head dropped to her shoulder as well. She could feel his hot breath on her skin, giving her goosebumps. Then he placed a trail of kissed up her neck. She tried to push him away with her shoulder, but he ignored her attempts and bit her sensitive skin instead and she let out a pained cry. When she stopped trying to push him away, he continued kissing up her neck and bit her again when she made another attempt of pushing him away. 

When he reached her ear, he whispered, “See how nice I am. I take care of your ass. It needs a few day’s rest and that’s what I’ll give it.” It was easy to hear he believed every word he was saying. He believed that he was good and lenient to her. “I would hate if your ass got all wide.” He then added smugly. 

Carefully, he eased her off his length. As he slipped out, they both felt his load pour out of her more plentiful now because of the position. 

Instead of grabbing onto her ass, he grabbed her waist and lowered her to her feet. For a moment, her knees gave in, but Dean held onto her waist, stabilizing her. Her forehead now rested against his chest instead. Natasha tripped uncomfortably as she felt his load trickle down her thighs. 

Dean pulled up and closed his jeans before leading her cuffed hands over his head. “Let’s get to bed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **ATTENTION! EDITED CHAPTER!**  
>  The ones of you that read 'authors note' know that my sisters 9 budgies interfered with my focus last week. I didn't want to let you down, so I did my best and posted on time. But I wasn't completely satisfied with this chapter. So now I've rewritten it, and now I'm satisfied with it.   
> I know this isn't normally like me, but I'm only human, though a perfectionistic one. And I'm sorry you had to experience a chapter I wasn't satisfied with. Hope you still like it. I love you all, and every one of you, my readers, is appreciated.   
> Also, Chapter 18 might get a little delayed. Count on posting Thursday at the latest.


	18. I Want It To End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you noticed my notes in the previous chapter? Chapter 17 has been edited/rewritten on April 17 ;-)

Dean replaced the regular cuffs with the padded cuffs she normally wore while she still stood leaned against the wall, sobbing softly. Her knees felt weak under her and the feeling of Dean’s load running down her thighs was enough to make her retch of disgust. She felt infected by him. 

“Can I…” Natasha stopped to sniff, “Can I please put my panties on?” She asked in a frail and choked up voice. 

“Hurry up.” Dean snapped as he collected her panties from the floor and threw them in her face. The few seconds it took to put them on, Dean stood impatiently with crossed arms and watched her. 

“Lie down.” He ordered and pointed at the bed like she was too dumb to understand him. With slumped shoulders, she crawled under the duvet, curling up her body to hide and make herself as small as possible. She wished she would disappear right then and there. 

“Hands,” Dean demanded when he stood next to the bed. Reluctantly, Natasha put her cuffed hands on top of the duvet. He took the chain and chained her to the head of the bed. A second after the snap hook had clicked, Dean’s right hand impacted with her left cheek and jerked her head to the side. Natasha let out a whine of pain and shock over the sudden unprovoked slap. 

“Quit your crying. It’s not that bad.” Dean snapped. She bit her lower lip to try to stop the sobs, but they kept coming, shaking through her body for each one, only muffled now. 

He grabbed her jaw and leaned so close, she could smell his alcohol breath when he sneered, “Did I rape your ass? No, I didn’t. You have nothing to cry about, you little ungrateful slut.”

Natasha couldn’t hold back a complaining whimper. She had everything to cry about, but she knew Dean was completely deprived of compassion, so it wouldn’t help her trying to tell him. As he walked around the bed to his side, she turned her back towards him. She couldn’t stand looking at him. 

When Dean laid down in bed, he scooted closer. She scooted as far to the edge as possible, but Dean just snuggled closer, ignoring that Natasha kept moving farther away until her arms were stretched and she couldn’t get any further away. He clung to her backside and his nose nuzzled the hollow beneath her jawline. 

He had turned on a dime again. Ten seconds ago, he slapped her, now he wanted to cuddle with her. 

_Go away. Go away and never touch me again._ Natasha begged in her mind, as she couldn’t move further away. 

“Mmm, you smell so good. You smell of sex.” He mumbled delighted after inhaling the hair at her neck deeply. She had to swallow thickly to keep the bile down. His right arm wrapped around her waist and squeezed her against his chest, pressing a louder sob over her lips. “Shut up.” He mumbled annoyed. A minute later, his right leg hooked up and over both of her legs as she was still lying on her side.

After a couple of minutes where all he did was sweep his nose over the skin of her neck and place small kisses along the way, Natasha felt it easier to ignore him. Like she enveloped her mind and separated it from her body to keep his touch out of her thoughts. The sobs had quieted down, but the tears kept flowing on their own accord. That the alcohol made him cuddly was something she could easily live with as long as he didn’t assault her again. Now and then, he let out a satisfied sigh, but nothing indicated he had fallen asleep yet. His hand sneaked down and stroked her stomach as he nestled even closer to her. 

His breath on her neck was a constant reminder of the fact that she would probably never escape him alive. He was faster and stronger than her. Her failed attempts of escaping were proof of that. Thinking back on her failed attempts made her feel empty inside. This wasn’t a life. Dean had taken her life from her. Her friends, her family, her work, everything… he had ruined her life. He had ruined her… 

Still wet from his load between her legs, she felt dirty. He raped her as he pleased, he beat and abused her as he pleased. As she had thought so many times before – she couldn’t take this anymore. 

And this _thing_ inside her… It was an abomination. She would never love it properly and it would always remind her of Dean. He was a demon and it would probably be part demon. Part monster. How could it be anything else with him as a father? If it weren’t in its DNA, it would probably still be a monster with Dean around influencing it. If this thing was born, it was a disservice to the world. She couldn’t allow that. 

The hope of escaping to get an abortion was next to zero. She had to accept that. She might have luck with provoking Dean enough to beat her until it died inside her, but as he stated himself just a few hours ago – he could just knock her up again if that was what he wanted. And there was no limit to his cruelness. He had no conscience whatsoever. His actions and abusing of her was proof of that. 

She had to stop this. 

She hadn't noticed Dean’s breathing had changed and that he was asleep before he turned his back to her and started snoring lightly. The tears had never stopped their endless stream from her eyes and a hollow filled her. Like each tear that left her eyes took a part of her with them, leaving her as an empty, depressed shell. 

Different ways to end this flooded her mind. She tried to imagine one scenario after the other. How she could get enough time before Dean could stop her. What she could use to do it. She needed a strategy and it had to be better than the ones she had already tried. But it was hard. Natasha had never felt this inadequate in her life. It felt almost impossible to find a way out of this hell. 

Then, after almost an hour of speculating and trying to find creative ways around Dean, it dawned on her… She nearly gasped as it settled in her heart. Her heart dropped in her chest, but she also felt relieved. The reason she hadn't thought of it before was that she was more desperate than ever right now. 

Carefully, so she didn’t wake Dean, she swung her right leg out of bed and with her toes tried to find what she was searching for under the bed. At first, she couldn’t find it. Maybe it was further under the bed. She swung her other leg out of bed too and scooted down as far as the chain on her handcuffs allowed. Now her lower back rested at the edge of the bed while her foot searched under the bed. 

There… she could feel it, but she couldn’t get a hold of it. She stretched herself as much as she could. The cuffs pressed on her wrists and her arms hurt. Natasha barely dared to breathe in fear of waking Dean, but finally, she could reach the edge of the black box and with a few minutes of struggle, she pulled it out from under the bed. 

Her head whipped to the side to see if her moving around and the sound of the box over the carpet had woken Dean, but he seemed to still be deep asleep. In her mind, Natasha thanked the alcohol for his heavy sleep. 

The lid of the black box wasn’t on properly, so Natasha quickly pushed it off, and with her foot, she felt her way until she came across the cold steel she was seeking. Delicately, she got a hold of the shaft of the knife, but she had only lifted it three inches when she dropped it and it clanked against the other objects in the box. 

With thudding heart and stilled breath, her head whipped to Dean’s side again. Anxiously, she listened to his breathing, but it was still deep and heavy. Still asleep. 

Natasha exhaled and took a deep breath to calm her nerves before she tried to lift the knife again. She still remembered the first night she was here where he had threatened her with it and she had begged him to use it. 

 

_Leaning to the side, he pushed the lid off the black box on the nightstand, from this angle she couldn’t see what it contained, but from the box, he drew a big knife. He let go of her throat and she breathed welcomingly._

_Gently he laid the tip on her lips, “When I start fucking you again you’re gonna be quiet,” He demanded with raised eyebrows. “All that screaming and sobbing are about to give me a headache. Do you understand that, you cheap slut?”_

_Without any other options, she nodded. He slowly pulled out of her ass, then slowly entered her with a moan. Though her face contorted in pain, she kept quiet. But then she thought for a second._

_Knife, anger management issues, he might go too far with that knife._

_At the next slow thrust, she let out a small whiney sound. He clenched his teeth and pushed the tip against her skin under her chin. She could feel the tip puncture the skin, but the pain was nothing compared to the damage his dick was doing._

_“Do it…” She sobbed quietly._

_He stopped moving inside her again. “Do you really wanna die?” He asked baffled. Before she could stop herself, she nodded, pushing the tip of the blade deeper into her skin._

_He rolled his eyes and sighed deeply. “Then this won’t do any good,” he stated and threw the knife back into the black box._

 

She still wished he had used it back then. The tears that had never stopped, flowed with renewed force as the memory haunted her mind. The memory of that fatal night where everything changed and her life was taken from her. She swallowed thickly with her eyes squeezed shut and lightly shook her head to displace the pained uncomfortable memories. 

Natasha had almost gotten the knife up on the bed when she dropped it again and it fell on the carpet with a muffled thud. Her whole body stiffened as she looked at Dean, holding her breath again. He mumbled unintelligibly as he turned to lie on his back, enhancing his drunken snoring. His head was fortunately turned away from her. 

With a whooshing exhale, her body relaxed though her heart thudded so powerfully in her chest, her pulse thundered in her ears. A coat of sweat had laid over her forehead. She fumbled after the knife on the carpet, and this time, she clutched so hard around the shaft with her toes that her foot was nearly cramping when she finally got it on the bed. 

The scarce light the numbers from the digital clock provided was just enough for her to see the silhouette of the knife next to her hip. Could she reach it with her hand? Slowly, very slowly, and carefully, Natasha led her left hand closer to the hook and her right hand simultaneously pulled in the chain, while she watched Dean closely to see any signs of him waking up. After a few minutes, her left hand was against the hook and the chain from it to her right hand was as long as it could get. Her fingertips just grazed the tip of the handle, unable to get a hold of it. She pulled harder on the chain, causing the cuffs to tighten so hard around her wrists her hands started prickling, but she still couldn’t reach it completely. 

Pushing the duvet aside, she laid her butt on the blade and scooted up. The cutting edge scraped against her skin as she did it again, pushing the knife further up the bed, and now, Natasha was able to close her hand around the handle. 

Her breath hitched as she held the knife in her hand. Instantly looking back at Dean to see if he was about to wake up, but he was still sound asleep. She looked back at the knife. The flow of tears had momentarily stopped while she had tried to retrieve it. Instead, a single tear streaked down with a few minutes apart. Natasha swallowed thickly as the numbers of the digital clock reflected eerily red on the blade, and that was when she noticed how much her hand was shaking. 

A strong urge of letting the blade sink deep into her stomach flushed through her and she clutched harder onto the knife until her knuckles turned white. It would probably kill the monster inside of her, but what about her? It could take hours to bleed out from a stab wound to the stomach. Dean would discover it before it was too late. 

She looked at him again. Most of all, she wanted to stab _him_. Why couldn’t he just have been some psychopathic _human_? Then her first attempt of escape would have succeeded. Why did he have to be a stupid demon with stupid fast healing? Because he was an abomination. And she wouldn’t allow him to bring another abomination into this world by using her as an incubator. This had to end now. 

Natasha closed her eyes and drew in a deep strengthening breath. When she opened her eyes again, the tears welled up and blurred her sight. As slowly and soundlessly as possible, she adjusted the chain of her cuffs so it was equally long on both sides of the hook. With a little difficulty, she got the padded cuffs pressed for so far up her forearms as she could, baring her wrists. 

Her hands trembled more than ever, and she had to draw in another deep breath before she led the blade over her left inner wrist with a sharp intake of breath. Quickly, the blood began trickling down her forearm, pooling around the padded cuff before it dripped down on her forehead. Apathetically, she looked at the red cut before she took the knife in her left hand and led the blade over her right wrist as well. Letting go of the blade, it fell on the bed next to her head, and she indifferent and unmoved studied how the blood oozed from her wounds. It dripped down on her face, in her hair, and on the bed, while also trickling down her arms. 

How long would it take? She wondered. Faintly, she noticed the tears that flowed as fast as the blood down her face, and how her heart thudded in a hidden fear of the unknown. A concern deep in her instincts tried to fight her indifference of the blood loss. It tried to break free to activate her survival instinct. But she wouldn’t let it. This was better. The relief and consolation were what filled most of her. It would soon be over. Soon, Dean would never be able to hurt her ever again. 

She would be free. 

Natasha used her last minutes to think about her family and friends. First, she closed her eyes and saw her mom, Karen. Her long, curly, but graying brown hair as she was in her late forties and her big brown eyes Natasha had inherited from her. She was always so helpful, even to strangers. Always had a smile on her face. She was a good person all the way through and the perfect role model. Natasha could count on one hand how many times she had raised her voice at her, and she had only done it when she had been in danger like about to walk over the street without looking out for cars. If Natasha had done something wrong, her parents talked to her instead of yelling. Which made her think of her dad, Robert. He had short blonde hair that was also graying as he was a year older than her mom. Besides the graying hair, the other thing revealing his age was his glasses, enlarging his small hazel eyes, and the fact that in the past couple of years, his stomach had begun exceeding his belt. 

Her parents’ home, her childhood home was always enveloped in the smells of baked goods as her mom loved to bake. Baked for bake sales, local nursing homes, her friends, and neighbors, and so on. 

And then there was grandma. Sometimes she was a little confused and mixed what happened in a movie or on the news or something she had dreamt with real life. Sometimes it was some funny stories that came out of it, sometimes they had to calm her down because she called around to hear if someone was okay because she thought they had been in a bar fight, which was only in her imagination. One time she had called Natasha to hear if it was true that she had won in the lottery. Sadly, that was just something she had dreamed or mixed together with something she had seen on TV. But even though she was a little confused sometimes, she would always listen to you no matter if the problem were how to finance a big security deposit or which color nail polish you should wear. 

Then she thought of her aunt, Sophie and her husband, James, and their daughter, Alicia. Little redheaded Alicia. You could always keep track of her, just follow her red curly top. She wasn’t more than five and she was all over the place. Her mom’s little sister, her aunt, Sophie, was almost 15 years younger than her mom. That was why there was so big an age difference between her and her little, redheaded jumping ball of a cousin. 

Lastly, she thought of her two best friends, Rebecca and Isabelle. Rebecca with her short boyish hair, that was so dark and thick because of her Indian heritage. She always wore red toned lipsticks and never more than mascara on her eyes. She was a journalist. Drinking a lot of green tea and did yoga. Took a million pictures of her black cat Selma and was a volunteer at the local shelter. Sometimes they had all three spend a Saturday at the shelter walking dogs, cleaning litter boxes, and given the animals attention and played with them. 

Isabelle was the opposite of Rebecca with her pale skin and long platinum blonde hair. Makeup, clothes, accessories, and shoes were her passion. Shopping, in general, was her passion. And she worked as a manager in a designer store. Rebecca, Isabelle, and Natasha had kept together since middle school. 

As she saw the faces of her friends and family in her mind, she started to feel dizzy and soon, one little sob after the other sneaked its way through the lump in her throat. 

 

Something reached Dean in his sleep. The satisfaction of maiming and dismembering the Abaddon groupies earlier filled his dreams and he experienced the rush all over again. Then some part of him noticed that something in his dream felt too real. Too tangible. He inhaled heavily, opened his eyes, and slowly sat up. The smell of blood had woken him. 

As a wild animal following a scent trail, he turned his head to the right towards the smell. “Shit!” He exclaimed shocked when his sleepy mind have had time to process what his eyes were seeing, and instantly, he was fully awake. 

Quickly, he reached for his jeans on the floor to find the key to the handcuffs. As he turned to her to unlock the handcuffs, he cupped her face before doing so. “Oh no, sweetie. What did you do?” He mumbled worried as he tried to take it all in to assess how bad it was. His thumbs stroked her wet and bloodstained cheeks while trying to determine how much blood she had lost. Nat was pale, she was sobbing softly, but it sounded weak. Her teary eyes looked empty besides the shadow of fear lurking at the back. 

He had to stop the bleeding now before it was too late. When he grabbed her hands to unlock the padded cuffs, he felt how ice cold they were. 

 

Natasha didn’t notice Dean was awake until he exclaimed, “Shit!” Her body gave a little jolt at the surprise before she again was apathetic and indifferent to her surroundings. At first, she had been sure he would punish her or maybe even rape her one last time before she died, or while she died. She was convinced that Dean was that cruel and he would have no scruples doing it. But instead, he grabbed something from the floor before gently cupping her face, and whispered, “Oh no, sweetie. What did you do?” There was a subtle question mark at the end of his concerned voice. 

_What does it look like? I’m getting away from you,_ Natasha felt like saying, but she couldn’t find the strength to care enough to say the words out loud. 

Dean let go of her face to open the cuffs. His hands were hot against her cold skin. “Shh,” He hushed gently as he removed the second cuff and lifted her in his arms. At this point, Natasha didn’t care what he did to her or where he was carrying her. It didn’t matter because it had an end very soon. 

She squinted when Dean turned on the lights in the bathroom and placed her on the closed toilet seat. For a few seconds, he held his hands against her shoulders to make sure she was strong enough to sit upright. As soon as he was sure she would stay there, he turned around and started rummaging in the cabinet under the sink. 

Natasha wondered what he was doing, but again, she wasn’t able to care enough to ask him. Instead, she watched as the blood dripped to the floor and slowly formed a puddle on the white tiles. 

Dean found what he was looking for in the cabinet, and when he turned around, he placed a red first aid kit next to her and opened it. 

“No,” Natasha whispered her protest so low she could barely hear it herself. He reached out for her right hand, and she jerked it out of his reach when she saw the dressing pad in his other hand. “No.” She sniveled a little louder, but he just latched onto her forearm with his right hand as his left captured her wrist with the dressing pad pressed against her wound. 

“No.” Natasha cried desperately and backed up, causing her to fall to the floor. She gave a yelp as she landed on her butt, and then continued to try to back away from Dean, while she screamed, “No! No! No! Let me go!” But she was unable to yank her wrist free of his grip. She barely noticed the pain each of her yanks caused her. 

No! He couldn’t take this option away from her! Why was he trying to stop the bleeding? 

Dean had grabbed another dressing pad from the first aid kit and tried to get a hold of her left wrist, but Natasha desperately tried to hold it out of his reach. 

“Please, stop fighting.” Dean pleaded. She had never heard him so perturbed before. Though his voice was softer than his actions. His hand had a vise-like grip on her right wrist. Her already cold hand began prickling and became numb as he continued to hold on. With a last surge of all her strength, she fought to get free of him. Get free so she could die and escape him for good. She kept backing up, trying to kick him away and wrench herself out of his grip while she sobbed and begged him to stop trying to keep her alive. In the end, Natasha ended on her back where Dean straddled her waist, pinning her to the floor, and finally got a hold of her left wrist where he pressed the dressing pad to her wound. 

Under him, Natasha’s sobbing had reached a hysterical note as she wiggled and twisted to throw him off as she helplessly kicked with her legs, but he wouldn’t budge. He was too heavy and he kept pressing the dressing pad against her wounds to stop the bleeding. 

She didn’t know for how long she tried to throw him off, but he kept sitting there, and at last, she didn’t have any more strength left. She became limp under him and all she could do was sob heartbrokenly. She was exhausted. He had taken her last option of freedom away from her. The bile rose in her throat as she realized her third and most desperate escape had failed as miserably as the others had. He was probably going to whip her with his belt and rape her when they got back to bed. He was a soulless, conscienceless demon.

“I hate you.” She whispered dolefully, she couldn’t even infuse her tone with the loathing she felt for him. She couldn’t look at him either. Her head was turned to the side and she was staring blindly at the wall. 

“I know, sweetie.” Dean sighed tiredly. 

“Why couldn’t you just let me die?” Natasha’s voice was choked up and high-pitched. When she looked at him, her eyes were full of hate and blame. 

Dean clenched his jaw visibly, but then closed his eyes and troubled sighed, “I can't.” 

A louder sob rippled through her as she turned her head away from him. Weakly, she tried to escape his grip on her wrists though she couldn’t feel her hands anymore, but she was so exhausted, Dean barely noticed her pathetic attempt. 

“I think the bleeding has stopped now,” Dean said in a low voice. She didn’t know if he was talking mostly to her or to himself. 

“No…” Was the only protest she could manage. She kept hoping that she had lost enough blood, but she knew it wasn’t true. But the denial wouldn’t leave her. It was the only thing she had to hold on to. 

His grip on her left wrist loosened and to her disappointment, she didn’t feel a new streak of hot blood trickling down her arm. The bleeding had stopped. She was so devastated, she didn’t even move when Dean gently let go of her other wrist, removed the soaked dressing pads and laid her arms on the floor while he found a new dressing pad and a bandage in the first aid kit. Before bandaging her right wrist, he examined it. 

“You don’t need stitches.” He said, again in that quiet tone where she was unsure if he talked to her or himself. Natasha saw a last drop of blood leaving the wound before Dean put the dressing pad on it and started wrapping the bandage tightly around it. Then he did the same with her left wrist. When Dean stood up, she kept lying on the floor, unable to do anything but cry and mourn the loss of her freedom. She heard the water running, but didn’t pay attention to what Dean was doing. 

A moment later, he kneeled down and began cleaning the blood off her forehead with a lukewarm wrung up cloth. He wiped her cheeks, but they were quickly wetted again by the continuous stream of tears, and then he continued down her neck. 

The cloth touched her everywhere because, in their struggle, the blood had been smeared everywhere. On her entire body, on the floor, and on Dean. His bare chest was covered in smeared, dried blood. As were his arms and he even had some on his face too. After he had cleaned her, he quickly wiped the rust red blood off him before taking her in his arms, and lifted her off the cold tile floor and carried her to the bedroom without doing anything about the blood on the floor.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew !  
> I can't tell you how happy I am to be back to the old routine after a couple of shitty busy weeks. Hope you can forgive me for the inconsistency in the past two weeks, I think it is.  
> Btw. I was thinking of making a Facebook page where you can follow my progress and what happens in my writing life. Keep track of updates, posting schedule, what I'm working on, message me via messenger or ask general questions on the wall? Or maybe on some other platform than Facebook?  
> Or is my ego on the loose here? XD Hahaha Just thought it would be nice for you to have the opportunity to keep track of your favorite stories. Let me know what you think :-)  
> Oh, and happy reading :-D
> 
>  **EDIT**  
>  Now I made an FB page so you can stay updated: https://www.facebook.com/Rrated26/  
> Thank you for your input everyone :-D

Dean gently put her down on the carpet next to the bed. “Stay there.” He ordered gently and stroked her wet cheek. Nat nodded imperceptibly while continuing to cry without a stop. Then he straightened up to assess the mess on the bed. Nat’s side was covered in blood and Dean thanked himself for always having a latex sheet under the regular sheets. He took the duvet and pillow covers off and then the cotton sheet. 

After wiping the worst of the blood off the latex sheet, he put on some clean sheets. Dean took the blood-filled bedding to the laundry basket in the bathroom along with the knife to make sure it was safely out of reach for Nat. When he returned to the bedroom, he locked the door. Nat was sitting in the same spot as where he had left her, huddled together to a small ball against the wall, still crying snot all over the place. 

“Come here.” He whispered as he lifted her from the floor and carried her to bed. She didn’t even protest. He placed himself with his back against the headboard and Nat sideways on his lap. Dean rested his chin on top of her head that was nuzzled between his chin and chest. After pulling the duvet over them, so it was almost hiding her, comforting her, he put his arms around her under the covers. It was like it increased her sobbing. Nat clutched onto his shoulder. Dean felt how her nails dug into his skin, but he didn’t care. Annoyed, he had to admit to himself that he was worried about Nat. She was so pale and looked so depressed and miserable Dean almost felt bad when he realized it was because of him. Almost. 

He thought back on last night where she had begged him to kill her. He hadn't thought she really meant it. That her spirit had been this low. But it had. 

“Shh. Shh, baby.” He hushed soothingly as he stroked her arm and back. Her nails dug deeper into his skin as she clung to him in a desperate search for comfort. Each of her sobs shook through her small body and Dean cradled her tighter in his arms. 

“Shh. It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay, baby.” He hushed again. Her tears were dripping onto his chest, but he didn’t care. 

Her words from just a little earlier rang through his mind. _I hate you. Why couldn’t you just let me die?_

Why couldn’t he let her die? He stubbornly ignored the little sting in him when he recalled her voice saying, _I hate you_. He angrily pushed it aside and focused on the other question. The easier question, why couldn’t he let her die? It had been easier to just let her bleed out. Keeping her had been a shitload more work than he had expected. She was always defying him, going against him, pulling stunts like this or when she tried to escape. So why couldn’t he just let her die? He hadn't even asked himself that question before now. When he first saw all the blood and her slit wrists, he had just done what came first to his mind; save her. He had done it without thinking or questioning like it had been an instinct. He caught himself thinking, ‘better put some locks on the drawers with sharp objects from now on.’ 

While he thought about this, he kept comforting her. Hushed soothingly to her, “Shh, baby. It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay. Shh. Stop crying now. You’re gonna be okay, baby. Shh, it’s okay. I’m not mad at you.” But her sobbing wouldn’t quiet down. 

For a long time, Dean tried to find heads and tails in what was going on inside of him and tried to find the answer to why he couldn’t let her die. He had always been in love with her ass. It was perfect. Perhaps the best ass he had ever raped. Often, that fact weighed up for the trouble it was to keep her here. But lately, he had started to notice everything around her ass. Even though she annoyed the shit out of him sometimes, his fondness of her ass might have spread a little to what was around it. 

Right now, all he wanted to do was make her stop crying. Stop resisting him. It would be so much easier if she just succumbed to him and did as she was told. Just accepted that this was her home and she was his now. 

The thought of her not being here anymore, made Dean feel a little empty spot inside of him. Though she was annoying and noisy, and stubbornly defied him every chance she got, he was beginning to like having her around. Maybe a little more than just like… and the baby inside of her… would it be okay? There had been a lot of blood, but none from between her legs. Then it must be okay. Dean stopped himself before he could breathe a sigh of relief. Instead, he held her closer while he kept comforting her and numbed his mind before he hit too close to home and realized exactly what he felt for Nat. 

 

Natasha felt like she was drowning in a bottomless ocean. Why would he take her last escape away from her? 

When he had started cradling her in his arms in bed, she didn’t want it. She wanted to move away from him because she couldn’t stand looking at him, but a part of her so deeply sought comfort. So instead, she helplessly clung to him because his comfort was better than nothing. 

Her last hope of escaping was crushed. Her desperate attempt to escape had failed miserably and she mourned her fate. Now she wished she had stabbed herself in the stomach. Maybe _she_ wouldn’t have escaped, but she would at least have killed that monster and maybe ruined her uterus in the process so she couldn’t get pregnant again. That would have been a victory in itself. Instead, she was still alive, still pregnant because she had been selfish. She should have killed that monster when she had the chance. 

“Shh, baby. It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay. Shh. Stop crying now. You’re gonna be okay, baby. Shh, it’s okay. I’m not mad at you.” Dean hushed. 

A part of her felt relieved when he said he wasn’t mad. He had been mad the other times she had tried to escape and he had punished her. When he had carried her to the bedroom, she had no idea if he would punish her with his belt and rape her or just go straight to sleep. This wasn’t what she had expected. She had never expected him to be so caring now where she was so deeply hurt. But even though she was relieved, she couldn’t control her sobbing. It just wouldn’t end and right now, she felt like she would never be able to stop crying and grieve over her situation. 

Another part of her kept hoping that the trauma of losing so much blood would cause a spontaneous abort. Though she knew that if it were the case, she would already have shown signs of it by now, but during the entire night, she kept hoping and praying that she would feel blood between her legs and pain in her lower abdomen, but it didn’t come. That fact made her sobbing continue with renewed force. 

“Shh. It’s okay, baby. Stop crying now. You’re gonna be okay.” Dean hushed soothingly as he stroked her back and held her close. 

Natasha struggled between, _stop touching me_ and _don’t let me go_. And that left her so confused, she just stayed in her spot. Right now, it was easy to forget he was a demon keeping her against her will. Though at the same time, she would never be able to forget it. Inside her was a raging storm that wouldn’t quiet down and kept every thought and feeling of hers whipped together to this massive mess. She couldn’t see how she would mentally survive this night. 

At some point, her sobbing slowly wound down to a soft hiccupping wailing. Natasha’s energy was running low and she didn’t have any more in her. 

Dean gently eased her off his lap to tuck her in under the duvet where he laid behind her with his arm around her, while he kept trying to comfort her. “It’s gonna be okay. Don’t worry. Shh. Stop crying, sweetie. It’s okay.” 

Natasha instantly curled herself into fetal position to make herself as small as possible, hoping she would simply disappear. When that didn’t happen, she kept lying like this to comfort herself in a way Dean couldn’t. 

Her wailing decreased until she was only sniffing with an occasional hiccup and now noticed a profound headache that pounded from the inside of her skull. Her throat was dry and she had become hoarse a little while ago. Her eyes were sore and swollen, and every time she blinked, it stung, but the tears kept coming out of her control. She could also feel the blood pound under the wounds on her hurting wrists. Natasha was just so exhausted and an empty feeling resided in her heart that she didn’t really care about all this. 

When the exhaustion finally dragged her into a deep but restless sleep, she was still crying. 

 

Finally, Dean thought tiredly. Finally, she’s asleep. He sighed deeply and closed his eyes to get some rest too. It was already dawn. 

It didn’t take long before he realized that wasn’t happening. He was tired, but he couldn’t find rest. When he turned to his back to lie more comfortably, Nat started whimpering in her sleep. With a sigh, he rolled to his side to spoon with her again with his arm around her and her whimpering quieted down. She didn’t stop completely until he stroked her arm and whispered, “Shh. Shh.” 

After some time, he looked at the clock. It was almost noon. Nat needed to take her pills. Dean looked at her and was about to wake her when he decided to let her sleep. She needed her rest. He could just give her the pills when she woke. That couldn’t hurt. 

Another half hour passed, and Dean thought of getting up, but something made him stay in bed and hold her, watch over her. It was on purpose he didn’t dig into what or why because he knew he wouldn’t like the answer. 

 

Natasha woke from her sleep without hope. Though it was late afternoon, meaning she had slept for over twelve hours, she felt like she had only slept one. Her entire body was heavy and she was still so exhausted. She felt like crying, but her tear ducts seemed to finally have emptied themselves. 

“Come, let’s get up,” Dean said softly when he noticed she was awake. They were still spooning, but she didn’t really care. She didn’t care about anything. 

Dean got out of bed, while she kept lying there without moving. After he was dressed, he pulled her up to sit, and when she didn’t make any move to do anything else than sitting there, he dressed her like an oversized marionette doll. 

Natasha blindly let him lead her to the round dining table where he placed her on one of the chairs. As she walked, she felt like she was moving through water. She was so exhausted, she was afraid she would keel over, so she put her hands on the table for support and in case she lost balance. Her gaze was directed at the tabletop, but she didn’t even have the energy to focus, so her sight was slightly blurred. 

A moment later, Dean placed four brown pills and a glass of water in front of her. Without thinking or caring, she swallowed the pills with half of the water. Next, Dean placed a bowl of yogurt and a spoon in front of her. But her appetite had vanished. 

“Eat,” Dean demanded when he sat across from her with his own cereal. 

“I’m not hungry,” Natasha whispered flatly. Still, staring blindly at the table. 

“Eat or I’m stuffing it down your throat,” Dean warned. His voice was firm, but the harsh, malignant tone he had when he normally ordered her around was absent. 

With a sigh, she picked up the spoon, dipped it in the strawberry yogurt, and slowly began eating it. Every time she swallowed, it hurt in her throat that was sore after all the crying. So sore, she coughed now and then. 

The strawberry yogurt felt like tar in her mouth. It felt too thick and the taste was too much. It nauseated her. Natasha hadn't even eaten a quarter of the bowl before she felt it coming up her throat again. Her hand clamped over her mouth when she retched and felt it fill her mouth. She was just about to run to the bathroom, when Dean, as quick as he was, had already grabbed a washing up bowl from the kitchen and run to her. Holding it in front of her at the last second, she emptied the little of her breakfast she had ingested. 

In her mind, she sent a quiet thanks to Dean. She wasn’t sure she would have made it to the toilet before she threw up, but also because she was still drained of energy and unsteady. She would probably just have fallen on the way and then puked and made a mess. Guaranteeing Dean would punish her, and she couldn’t take a round of his punishment right now. 

Even after Natasha had emptied the yogurt into the washing up bowl, her stomach kept cramping, forcing her to throw up stomach acid instead. She couldn’t keep herself up on the chair. Just as she lost balance, Dean wrapped his arm around her and stopped her upper body with his shoulder in one quick movement. He put the bowl on the floor, so his hand was free to remove her hair. 

“Easy. There, there. It’s okay.” Dean hushed as her stomach finally stopped cramping and she stopped throwing up pure stomach acid with a whimper. 

Panting, she sought support against Dean’s strong frame as he sat there, kneeling, besides her. The cramps had drained the last of her energy, and Natasha wasn’t sure she could even stand. Across her forehead was a layer of clammy moisture, and she could almost feel how pale she was. 

“Come here.” His words were needless, as he had already scooped her up in his arms. Carefully, he laid her on the couch and put the blanket over her. Before he left, his hand ran over her forehead to remove the sweat. 

Without Natasha wanting to, her eyes closed. She wanted to ask Dean for a glass of water to remove the foul taste in her mouth, but not even that could she overcome. Her body was completely drained of energy. A few minutes later, she heard Dean come back, place something next to the bed, and walk away again. 

A little curious and in hopes that it was a glass of water, she opened one eye and could just see the bucket with a little water at the bottom, next to the couch. There wasn’t even anything left in her to feel disappointed that it wasn’t that damn glass of water she wanted. Then her eyelid closed on her. She wasn’t sleepy, she was just tired. So tired she couldn’t keep her eyes open. 

A sound pricked her ears. The sound of a laptop starting. A moment later, she heard Dean type hastily on the keyboard. This was the first time she had seen a laptop in this house. She hadn't thought about it before. Most people have laptops, computers, or tablets in their home, but up until now, the only thing she had seen was the TV and his phone. 

Wonder where he keeps it? She thought though she didn’t really care. 

For some time, she drifted in and out of consciousness. Twenty minutes could have passed or twenty hours. Natasha’s sense of time was eradicated. Her scattered sleep was of the kind where everything from two minutes to two hours could have passed by every time she closed her eyes. Luckily, she hadn't puked again. 

Though she had slept, she didn’t feel any better. Her energy was still close to zero, but she managed to move a little so she was sitting up against the armrest, still with closed eyes. Her right hand unconsciously laid on top of her stomach. 

“Eat.” Dean’s firm voice made her jolt. She had heard him rustle around in the kitchen, but she hadn't heard him approach her. 

“Peanut butter and… honey?” Natasha asked warily as she eyed the sandwich that he had put on the coffee table for her. What was wrong with peanut butter and jelly? 

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes. “Both is a rich source of iron. You’re probably anemic right now because you lost all that blood. And honey also contains copper and magnesium that will help increase the hemoglobin in your body.” You could clearly hear in his voice that he was annoyed about having to explain himself, but his tone still missed that… harshness and viciousness. 

“So that’s what you needed the laptop for.” At the end of the sentence, she coughed. Her voice was still hoarse when she spoke. 

“What?” Dean snapped. Her mild coughing fit prevented him from hearing exactly what she said. 

“Nothing.” She hastily said with lowered gaze. 

“Thought so.” Dean snapped before he went to the kitchen again. Probably to make something for himself. 

Natasha took the plate and hesitantly picked up the sandwich. He hadn't been cheap with the peanut butter and honey. The layer between the slices of bread was almost an inch thick. The honey was already dripping on the plate. Unsure if it would provoke any queasiness, Natasha waited a few more moments before she nibbled the corner of the sandwich. To her own surprise, it wasn’t bad. It actually tasted good. 

When she had eaten a quarter of the sandwich and she still didn’t felt the need to puke, she dared to take bigger bites. It felt good to have something in her stomach again and the honey soothed the soreness in her throat. 

She was about to get up to take her plate to the kitchen when Dean nearly stormed forward from the dinner table and pressed her so harshly back on the couch, Natasha said, “Ow!”

“No.” He hissed and took the plate out of her hand. Then he noticed something that clearly annoyed him. Displease shone out of him when he, with his sleeve, wiped something off the corner of her mouth. “Pig.” He mumbled before walking to the kitchen. 

Confused, Natasha let a finger run over the place where Dean’s sleeve had just wiped her. She must have had a crumble or some peanut butter, but was that really enough to annoy him? Apparently. 

The food had strengthened her for a moment, but she already felt tired again. Like her energy was nonexistent and would never return. With a heavy body, she scooted down to lie horizontally on the couch as before she ate. Her right hand again laid unconsciously on her stomach. As Natasha was so tired, she barely had a thought. Her mind was a vast emptiness. 

“We should get to bed.” Dean’s voice made her jolt once again. She hadn't heard him walk over to her and now he was standing right in front of her with crossed arms and an unreadable face. 

_I must have dozed off._ Natasha thought confused. 

“Okay.” She didn’t know what else to say. Only a second after, a strange feeling hit her. When his face was unreadable like that, anything could happen. But he wouldn’t, would he? When she was like this? Tears welled up in her eyes just by the thought of it. 

With lowered gaze, she unsteadily got to her feet. It felt like her body had gained seventy pounds during the events of the night. Just thinking about it made her miserable, so she quickly pushed it aside. There was nothing to do about it anyway. The whole day she had already avoided looking at her bandaged wrists because the reminder of her failed escape was too painful. 

On the way to the bedroom, Natasha walked slowly and a little wobbly, so she had to seek support on the backrest of the couch, the doorframe, and the wall. Dean followed in her tracks, though he was impatient, but she was doing the best she could. She suspected him of being ready to catch her if she fell, but... 

The bile was already rising in her throat when she heard the lock click behind her. They both undressed in silence, and then she laid down with her back towards him. Praying that he just went to sleep. 

The blood ran cold in her veins when she felt him scoot closer after lying down on the bed too. He lifted her duvet and crawled under it until his front was against her backside. Squeezing her eyes shut, she barely dared to breathe. His strong arm snaked around her waist and he placed a gentle kiss on her cheek before moving his lips to her ear, “Goodnight, slut.” He whispered and kissed her cheek again before he made himself comfortable. 

And that was it. 

Natasha was about to sob in relief and had to swallow thickly to contain a hysterical sigh likewise of relief. 

While her heart rate and breathing was still trying to calm down, Dean’s hand sneaked under the oversized flannel she had kept on, and laid on her stomach. “The baby’s okay.” He whispered. 

“How do you know?” She whispered confused as she fought the urge to push his hand away. But she couldn’t help but ask. 

“Just a feeling.” She felt him shrug, but oddly enough, Natasha found herself believing him.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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The first thing he did when he woke was to check on Nat. She was still asleep. The wounds on her wrists had bled a little during the night so Dean decided that when she woke he would change the bandages. Even in her sleep, she was still pale and he wondered how long before she physically would be back to herself. Yesterday, besides being pale, she had looked like a zombie. There had been no life in her eyes. He hoped she would be better soon.

When he left the bedroom, he locked the door. Just to be on the safe side. Yesterday he had removed the worst blood from the bathroom, so he decided to give it a proper clean today. There was also a trail of dried rust red blood from the bedroom to the bathroom. Dean decided to find the steam cleaner later as there was also dried blood on the carpet in the bedroom. He wouldn’t wake Nat and he didn’t mind doing it later though he clenched his jaw in annoyance every time he looked at the unclean carpet.

Opening the laptop, he found the page he had found yesterday. The one that had made him make her a peanut butter and honey sandwich. It was an article about foods to combat anemia.

After reading through it, he checked the fridge and realized he had to buy a few things for the breakfast we would make her.

The quick trip to the local grocery store where things were a little more expensive, didn’t take long and soon he began making breakfast for Nat. Right now, money wasn’t important. What was important was that the little shopping trip was fast.

Dean found a pan and scrambled some eggs with cheese and cream. Then he added spinach, tomatoes, and soybeans.

From what he had read, he knew that spinach was a rich source of calcium, vitamins A, B9, E, and C. It also contained iron. The vitamin C in the tomatoes helped to an easier absorption of the iron. Eggs were, of course, rich with proteins, and the antioxidants helped stock up the vitamins in the body when you’re suffering from anemia. And last, the soybeans were the ones with the highest iron content.

When he was done, he put it in the fridge. She needed to sleep and it was easy to heat it in the microwave.

 

Natasha woke with a cough. It was a chesty and wet cough and she had to sit up as she could barely breathe and tears came to her eyes. When her coughing fit was finally over, her breathing was shallow and her chest hurt for every intake of breath. Her teeth were almost clattering by how cold and clammy she felt. The oversized flannel she was wearing was damp from all the sweat. As she swung her legs out of bed, she noticed she was dizzy too and had a hard time focusing.

Dean was nowhere to be found, so she got up and knocked on the door. She was so wobbly she had to seek support from the wall.

“Dean?” She called but speaking caused her to cough again and she felt how mucus was coughed up from her lungs.

Only a few seconds later, Dean unlocked and opened the door. “I… I don’t feel so good.” Natasha barely managed to say before the dizziness became too much. She swayed and lost balance before she could even grab onto the doorframe.

“I got you,” Dean said by reflex as he caught her in his arms before she hit the floor.

When she looked up at him, there were two Dean’s instead of one. Another coughing fit overwhelmed her and made her curl up in pain. For every cough, it was like she was hit in the chest with an iron bar.

Still coughing, Dean hooked an arm under her knees and lifted her. Natasha didn’t even have the energy to protest and just let him carry away with her. He put her down on the couch and quickly tucked her under the blanket. His hand laid on her forehead to feel her temperature. A deep furrow appeared on his forehead.

“You’re burning up.” He said mostly to himself.

“I’m freezing.” She said in between her wheezing breath.

“It’s gonna be okay, baby.” Dean let his hand run from her forehead over her cheek before he disappeared.

She could barely keep her eyes open, but the pain in her chest and her shaking made sure she couldn’t escape into sleep.

“Drink this.” Dean came back with a glass of water with a yellow straw and the four brown pills she now took every morning though she still didn’t know what they were.

He put the pills in her hand and she quickly swallowed them with some water. It rasped all the way down her throat and the cool water made her shake even more. Natasha could feel another round of coughing pressing on her chest. Barely had she put the glass on the coffee table when she bent over and thought she would cough her lungs up. The tears were forced down her cheeks as she struggled with heaving enough air in between the coughs.

“Dean?” She called, but got interrupted by more coughs. “Can I get some paper towels?” She finally got pushed over her lips when he came to the couch. The mucus was building in her throat and if she kept coughing, she was sure it would come up.

Dean was back in seconds, just in time for her to cough up a ball of slimy green mucus and she almost threw up too as it was like the coughs came all the way down from her toes, traveling and shaking through her entire body.

“Thanks.” Natasha handed the used paper towel back to Dean, who, with wrinkled nose, took it with the tips of his thumb and index finger.

“Ew.” She heard him mutter on the way to the kitchen.

 _I’m sorry I’m sick. I’m not doing it on purpose,_ Natasha felt like yelling, but what scarce resources of energy that had been left before this was completely drained by the sickness.

Panting from the coughing fit that was finally over, she tucked herself deeper under the blanket. It felt too thin and her teeth clattered. If this was the flu, it was unusually aggressive, she thought to herself.

Over the next few minutes, she heard Dean put something in the microwave and soon a delicious smell spread in the house. But even the delicious smell couldn’t make her appetite come to life. While whatever it was heated in the microwave, Dean pulled the coffee table closer to the couch so she could reach it. He put a roll of paper towels on it, placed the remote in her reach after turning on the TV, and then put the trashcan from the bathroom in the space between the table and the couch.

“Eat.” He demanded when he placed a plate with what looked like an omelet that was meant for a bodybuilder with all that protein and other things you usually didn’t put in an omelet. His tone was still cutting, but it was much less harsh than yesterday.

“I’m not hungry,” Natasha whispered apologizing. It was an odd combination of eggs, tomatoes, spinach, and beans, but it smelled so good, she was almost sad she couldn’t eat anything.

“Nat, eat!” He snapped and pointed at the food like it would help.

“What did you just call me?” She drawled as she frowned and tried to focus on him, but there were still minimum one and a half Dean instead of just one.

With a scoff, he pressed his lips together and snapped, “Nothing.” Before he marched out of her sight.

She just shook her head and closed her eyes. She was too exhausted to do anything else. Most of all she wanted to sleep, but she couldn’t.

“Do I have to stuff it down your throat?” Dean’s cutting tone made her eyes fly open. Maybe she had actually dozed off for a minute and forgot all about the meal. Slightly confused, she looked up at him. Or she wasn’t sure if she looked directly at him because the two Dean’s swam before her eyes.

“Goddammit.” He sighed, obviously annoyed. He kneeled next to the couch, took the plate, and led a forkful of the omelet thing to her mouth. “Open up.” He demanded when he held the fork in front of her mouth.

She pressed her lips together. He couldn’t decide if she should eat or not. When Dean lifted an eyebrow and looked pointedly at her, she was saved by another round of coughing. With the sleeve of the flannel, she covered her mouth as her other hand blindly fumbled after the paper towels on the table.

Dean took one and handed it to her. Again, a lot of mucus came up. Natasha panted like she had just run a marathon when it was finally over. It didn’t take a lot of seconds before Dean pushed the breakfast in her face again.

“You don’t have to eat all of it. Just some of it.” He fought to keep his voice under control and it was clear to see how annoyed he was.

She realized there was no way around it. Up until now, she had avoided him trying to stuff food down her throat and she would like to keep it that way. When he threatened to do something, he would follow through. So without appetite, she opened her mouth to allow the forkful of food into her mouth.

She had to admit it tasted good, but breathing through her nose while she chewed was difficult. It felt like she didn’t get enough air. “Smaller bites, please.” She said tiredly after chewing the food thoroughly and swallowing loudly and strained. Her breath was already labored after only one mouthful.

Dean put a little less on the fork and nodded encouraging as he held it to her mouth. Natasha chewed it slower than before. It was like her stomach was already full. And struggling to breathe around the food drained even more of her nonexistent energy. Half the time, she sad like a toddler falling asleep in its dinner after a whole day out on adventures. A few times, she even stopped chewing and her head was about to fall over. She only opened her eyes to check if Dean kept the portions small.

“I’m… I’m full.” Natasha held up her hand to stop the next forkful. She was stuffed all the way up to her throat now, but she had to admit it felt good to get something to eat even though she ate so slow. Dean almost looked disappointed between her and the half eaten plate before he took it to the kitchen.

The hot food had given her a little warmth, but it didn’t take many minutes before she trembled again because she felt cold. She curled herself up under the blanket to try to hold onto the warmth, but when she laid horizontally, it felt as if the food rose to the back of her throat. Natasha tried to swallow a few times to keep it down but it kept rising. She barely had the time to think, _‘I’m gonna throw up’_ before she jumped up and ripped the trashcan next to the couch open and emptied her breakfast into it.

“Oh, come on.” Dean sighed exasperatedly from somewhere behind her.

Throwing up took the last of her energy. She kept hanging over the side of the couch with her head in the trashcan even after she was done. Her whole body felt so weak and fragile. And a new layer of clammy sweat had covered her trembling body.

“Are you done?” Dean asked softly as he kneeled next to her, and she found the strength to nod.

With a paper towel, he wiped her mouth and gently pushed her back onto the couch before he changed the plastic bag in the trashcan.

“I really hope this trash bag stays tight.” He mumbled on his way to the big trashcan outside the house.

“Dean?” She called feebly when she heard him return.

“What?” He asked a little too harsh, but came to her side and stood impatiently with crossed arms.

“Will you–” She was interrupted by a cough, and she had to sit up to ease the pain in her chest. Dean stepped closer and handed her a paper towel while he stroked her back.

“Will you make me some hot lemon water? With sugar?” She pleaded and tried to focus on him.

He shifted his weight and then mumbled, “I think I have some lemon juice somewhere.” And then walked out of her sight. He made it sound like she made him jump through hoops for her.

When she still lived at home, her mom had always made her hot lemon water with sugar when she was sick. It was important to stay hydrated when you were sick and the lemon and sugar made it glide down easier. Thinking of her mom made tears spring to her eyes, so she quickly pushed it aside. Which was easier than she had thought. She just had to focus on how bad she was feeling and the pain in her chest and her shortness of breath to forget her mom and her old life.

The smell of lemon reached her nose before she saw him. He placed a cup with steaming hot water and a sugar bowl next to it. “Thank you.” She whispered.

 

The rest of the day passed as in a fog. Natasha drifted in and out of sleep, frequently interrupted by rounds of coughing that weakened and hurt her even more. In the absence of her appetite, Dean tried to make her eat some yogurt, but it went the same way as her breakfast. The queasiness and nausea stayed with her after the failed try to eat something.

 

Even when she slept, Dean thought her breathing sounded shallow and strained. He had to admit he was worried about her. When he found the steam cleaner to clean the carpet for dried blood, he stopped it now and then to listen to her breathing. Impressively enough, she slept through the noise it made.

Later he had taken his pillow and duvet from the bedroom and laid on the carpet in the same end as Nat’s head, but he couldn’t fall asleep. The floor was too hard and the carpet scratched him. Nat’s incessant coughing also kept him awake. It sounded like she was about to cough up her lungs at any moment.

At 4 a.m., he had to get up. His neck and back were starting to hurt. But he didn’t want to sleep in the bedroom. He felt an uneasiness creep in on him just by thinking of leaving her here in the living room when she was feeling like this. She wouldn’t have the strength to call loud enough to wake him if she needed anything.

Dean took a couple of muscle relaxers and went to her side. He checked how deeply asleep she was before he laid his hands under her arms and gently lifted her so he could ease himself behind her. Every movement was careful, as he wouldn’t risk waking her. And after a couple of minutes, he was now leaned against the armrest with a pillow. Nat laid, still deeply asleep, between his legs with her back against his chest. She was still burning hot and sweating a little, but between the floor and sweat, he preferred sweat.

He turned on the TV and began watching _Game of Thrones_ with the volume turned down and put subtitles on. Now and then, he let his hand run over her forehead both to check her temperature but also to remove the sweat. Not long after, he absentmindedly started nuzzling her damp hair.

At some point, he noticed her breathing was better now where she was half sitting up. He was relieved that demons didn’t get sick. That was something he didn’t miss at all about being human.

Half an episode later, Dean was more than heated up by Nat’s 105-degree body heat. He was thirsty, but he didn’t want to get up. Then he eyed Nat’s weird lemon water. It was cold now. Taking the cup, he first smelled it. It smelled sour but also sweet. Then he dared to take a nip of it.

“Hmm. Not bad actually.” He mumbled to himself and took another sip. Before he knew it, he had emptied the cup.

 

Nat, who had laid perfectly still most of the night, began turning every other minute as if she couldn’t find a comfortable position. There had been longer between her coughing since Dean had crawled up on the couch with her, but now they were more frequent.

“Shh.” Dean hushed and stroked her flannel-covered arms above the blanket.

 

It was dark and Natasha was confused. It was hot, unbearably hot. She blindly tried to find her way out, but it was pitch-black. Around her echoed a baby’s cry. Something in her tried to find it. It was a basic instinct. She needed to find the crying defenseless baby. But just as the cry paused when the baby heaved in a fresh breath to continue its heartbreaking cry, something else echoed around her. At first, she thought her mind was playing a trick on her. Just seconds before the cry paused, there was a faint echo with traces of a sinister laughter.

It was absurd. There were no one else besides her and the crying baby here in the darkness. She could feel it.

A faint red glow lasting less than a second caught her eyes and she spun around, but it was already gone. Confused, she spun around herself three times to try and get a glimpse of it again, but it had vanished without a trace. Just when she gave up and started following the wailing, the glow came again. And again. Like a pulsing heartbeat.

Where did it come from?

It pulsed around her seemingly without any source. As the red glow increased like a quickening heartbeat, the sound of a pulse mixed with the baby’s cry. It sounded like the heavy pulse of a blue whale. It got louder and louder like a bass until Natasha had to cover her ears and she could feel the heavy heartbeat in her chest.

She could feel it in her… in her stomach.

Anxiously, she looked down at herself. The red glowing light came from inside her. Her stomach moved to the deafening sound of the pulse and she realized the baby’s cry _and_ the sinister laughter came from inside her too. It was the demon spawn. It was ruining her from the inside out.

“No, no, no, no…” She chanted panicky and backed up like she could escape it. But she couldn’t.

Her stomach moved and pulsed faster. It was almost impossible to look at the light emitting from inside her. It was as bright as the sun now. In a hopeless attempt, she kept backing up until she tripped over something invisible and landed with a thud on her back.

Horrified, she looked at her stomach as it kept growing for every pulsing beat and took the size of a beach ball. With a shriek, her skin was torn apart. Her mouth opened wide for a hysterical and pained scream, but not a sound came over her lips. She tried to back away from the monstrous thing clawing its way out of her stomach, but it was as if she was trapped in quicksand. The more she moved, the deeper she sunk into the floor that was suddenly black and sticky.

The creature that was ripping its way out of her finally broke free. It was a baby, but it had wide black eyes and sharp pointy teeth. Instead of nails, it had claws. It turned its head slowly to hers and then smiled wickedly before it with unnatural speed crawled up her chest and raised it claw-like fingers to tear her eyes out…

Natasha sat up with a gasp. With wheezing panting breath, she quickly looked around. She was in the living room. Dean was all of the sudden on the couch with her. She was sitting between his legs. But that didn’t concern her right now. She didn’t care about Dean that was looking worried at her.

First now, she noticed that she was trembling and her cheeks were wet from the nightmare. The demon baby was nowhere. It was just a dream. Or was it? She had barely felt the relief when the truth washed over her.

“I think the baby is making me sick!” She whined full of panic in between her strained, gasping breath.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I made an FB page so you can stay updated on your favorite stories: [Here](https://www.facebook.com/Rrated26/?fref=ts)  
> Like and follow my progress and what happens in my writing life. Keep track of updates, posting schedule, what I'm working on, message me via messenger, and ask general questions on the wall. Do whatever you like because I made it for you. :-)  
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”What?” Dean inquired confused. 

“I think the baby is making me sick!” Nat exclaimed again and then bent over in a coughing fit from the strain it was to raise her voice. 

He rubbed her back absentmindedly as different possibilities ran through his mind. Demons didn’t affect the body just by inhabiting it, so why would a baby? Even if it was like him? He couldn’t believe it, but it was clear she did. 

_It must be the fever_ , he thought to himself. As her coughing quieted down and she leaned back, his hand laid on her forehead. She was warmer. It could easily be delirium. 

_She’s getting sicker_. His frown deepened as he listened to her shallow and labored breathing. A knot formed in his stomach though he wouldn’t even admit to himself what caused it. 

“Do something!” Her hands hit his arm as she turned her upper body and yelled as loud as she could. He barely felt her hits. Her strength had decreased because of the sickness and her strained breathing made sure her hysterical yelling wasn’t much louder than normal conversation level. Until now, he hadn't noticed her cheeks were wetter than the rest of her sweat-covered body. She was crying. 

“Okay, stop. I’ll figure it out.” He told her sternly as his hand caught her wrist in the air to stop her from hitting him again. The little fight she had put up had already made her pant like an 80-year-old woman who had been smoking two packs of cigarettes a day for at least half of her lifetime. There was a wet chesty sound accompanying each one of her breaths. 

“Now!” She whined hoarsely. The high-pitched panicking tone sent her into another coughing fit. Her hand fumbled for something to their right, so Dean grabbed a piece of paper towel and handed it to her before he got up from the couch to find his phone. It was a relief to escape her fever-heated body. While he dialed ‘666,’ he went to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. 

“My favorite Winchester. What can I do for you?” Crowley sounded overly cheery and flattering, making Dean roll his eyes. 

“I need you to come over here,” Dean demanded as he found a sedative and some painkillers. There was a short pause before he continued in a less harsh tone, “Nat is sick.” 

“Well, that’s what happens with these humans. I’ll say let nature run its course.” Dean could hear the fake smile in his voice and knew a part of him meant it. Crowley had never said it directly, but Dean sensed he was beginning to get a little jealous of Nat taking his attention. Attention Crowley would otherwise get. Dean rolled his eyes again. Crowley was like dating a teenager with self-esteem problems. 

“Get here. Now. Or I’m gonna drag your ass here myself.” Dean snapped before hanging up without letting Crowley answer. 

“Who did you call?” Nat hoarsely whispered from the couch when he came out of the bathroom. Her voice sounded like sandpaper. In the light from the bathroom, he saw how pale her face was. It was almost transparent. 

“One who can help.” He absentmindedly answered as he walked to the kitchen. 

A few minutes later, he came back to the couch with a cup of hot lemon water with sugar. “Here,” He said as he handed her the cup. “Take these.” He ordered as he handed her the pills. 

“What is it?” She asked suspiciously, but he could see what was left of her energy was running out. Her eyelids were getting heavy, her movements slower, and her face became a more ashen color, making her blood vessels spring forward and gave the impression of bluish circles under her eyes. Her cheeks looked sunken. All in all, she looked like hell, and the knot in Dean’s stomach tightened. Her hallucination or dream or whatever it was that had scared her and convinced her the baby made her sick, must have given her an adrenaline kick, but now it was wearing off. 

“Just take’em and I’ll figure out what’s making you sick.” He snapped, but his hand stroked her hair. 

“But the water’s too hot.” She whined in the most pathetic, rasping voice he had heard. With a sigh and rolling eyes, he retrieved a glass of cold water from the kitchen. Dutifully, she took the pills and calmer crawled under the covers. 

At first, he had thought it was just the flu. Now he wasn’t so sure. It was most likely some kind of infection. He just hoped it was something he could treat here at home, so she didn’t have to die. She wasn't hurt because he had done something to her. When he hurt her, he knew exactly how much he hurt her and knew she would survive it. 

This he didn't know. It was most likely a disease, and diseases were unpredictable and devouring. Consuming. He had no control over it and that was what frustrated him the most.

If she took a turn for the worse, maybe one of Crowley’s minions could possess her to keep her alive. No, he pushed the thought away as fast as it had come. It wouldn’t be the same. He didn’t want that. 

 

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Dean hissed after jumping half a foot from his place at the dinner table when Crowley materialized right in front of him. “What took you so long?” He then snapped. 

“Had to get a few supplies.” Crowley wiggled a little black purse in his right hand. 

It had been half an hour since Dean called. Nat was asleep on the couch. He could hear it on her breathing. Either from exhaustion or from the pills he had given her or both. 

“Fine. What is it?” He inquired tersely as he eyed the black purse again. 

“Antibiotics and pain medicine,” Crowley said with a sly smile, completely ignoring Dean’s snappy tone. 

“You sure that’ll do it? You don’t even know what’s wrong with her?” He hissed under his breath and gestured towards Nat. His arrogance was pissing him off. Antibiotics and painkillers couldn’t cure everything. What if it really was the baby? Or if something was wrong _with_ the baby?

Crowley let out a theatrical sigh before he explained. “I could diagnose it from the coughing I heard over the phone. Come on, Dean. When I was human, this was what people died of. I know the sound of the Cough of Death when I hear it.” 

Confused, Dean was about to open his mouth for a retort and to demand to know what was wrong with her when Crowley rolled his eyes, but stopped himself in the middle of it, and said, “Pneumonia, Dean. She has pneumonia.” His tone had a resigned hint because he had to say it out loud. 

The frown on Dean’s forehead disappeared and his mouth formed a silent, ‘oh.’ The uneasiness and the knot in his stomach he hadn't noticed how bad it had gotten before now, dissolved and was replaced with relief. A calmness washed over him. 

The King of Hell lifted an eyebrow, clearly annoyed by Dean’s slowness and took a few steps closer to the couch, so he could take a look at her himself. “Looks like she might need a saline IV too. She looks a little dehydrated.” He noted dryly, placed the black purse on the table in front of Dean, and zapped himself away. 

He didn’t even care to get pissed at Crowley right now. He was just glad Nat was gonna be okay. He had been more worried than he would ever admit. And for more than he would ever admit too. 

Crowley was gone for ten minutes, but it didn’t seem as long to Dean as the worst worry along with that uncomfortable knot in his stomach were gone. He leaned back against the backrest of the chair and closed his eyes while he waited. When he heard a light whoosh, he opened his eyes, and in front of him stood Crowley. 

“Here’s some blood too. I noticed the bandages on her wrists. Don’t worry, I checked her blood type.” He put a couple of saline IVs and blood bags on the table in front of him along with some plastic packages of various size and shapes. Under his arm, he had an IV stand he placed next to the table. “If you wait a day or two with the shots, she’s too far gone and you’ll be rid of that problem. Just consider it. See you when she’s better.” He noted dryly as he avoided looking at Dean. Instead, he fidgeted with the nail of his index finger, making small clicking sounds, and then disappeared before Dean could tell him a thing or two, including that he would decide for himself when he would be back to work. The irritation Crowley caused in him was quickly overshadowed as he looked at the different sterile packaging including the ones containing the needles for the IV and blood bags. He suppressed a shudder when he looked closer at the needles. Crowley had been so considerate to bring a folder for what Dean expected to be for nurse trainees, instructing how to insert the intravenous needles. 

After reading the folder thoroughly three times, he took everything to the coffee table, turned on the lights, and made it ready before he kneeled next to the couch and woke Nat. “Sweetie, wake up. I figured out what’s wrong.” Dean said gently as he stroked her cheek and hair. 

“Hmm?” She mumbled and squinted up at him, but it was clear to see she had a hard time focusing on him. 

“You have pneumonia. A really bad infection.” He explained in a soothing voice as he continued to stroke her. 

“Hmm? No, the baby–” Nat started confused in a rasping weak voice, but Dean cut her off. 

“It’s gonna be fine. You have pneumonia and I got everything to treat it.” He reassured her. For the first time, she looked past him and noticed everything on the table. He saw her brown eyes swipe over the supplies twice before she eyed the IV stand. 

“It’s gonna be okay. I just have to insert an intravenous catheter, okay?” He explained in that same soothing voice. 

“With a needle? No, I-I hate needles.” Nat panicky pulled back and hid under the blanket as her glazed eyes flickered from side to side. 

“Come on, sweetie. You need this.” A hint of begging sneaked its way through his voice. He could hear she gulped loudly and then pulled the blanket down, so her face was free instead of only her eyes. She was exhausted and for once, didn’t have the energy to oppose him with the strength she usually carried. 

“Good girl.” He stroked her cheek again and took the intravenous kit for her hand. “Give me your hand.” He encouraged after unpacking it. Nat’s tired eyes warily followed every one of his movements as he wiped her right hand with an alcohol wipe. As he wiped his own hands with a new wipe, Nat kept her hand forward. He took the intravenous needle and studied her hand for a few seconds to find the right vein. When he was sure where to stick it, he led the needle closer to her skin, but when the needle was under half an inch from her hand, she pulled her hand out of his grip and hid under the covers again. 

“I don’t wanna.” She complained tearfully and coughed a few times. 

Dean let out a tired sigh. “Come on, sweetie. You need this.” He prompted. He could easily hold her down and jam the needle in, but he didn’t want to. Dean was anxious and nervous about inserting it, and he would rather have her hold still, so he could insert it properly. He hated shots, he hated needles too, so he could perfectly understand her. And it didn’t help that he was on the other side of the needle this time. Still, he felt the familiar shiver and the urge to pull back from the needle as if it was radioactive. 

“ _Please_ ,” Dean begged helplessly. The frustration was starting to rise in him, but he calmed it by deciding to give her three more chances before he would hold her down – and probably slash her hand open in the process, but if that was what it took, then be it. 

He let out another sigh. “I hate needles too, okay.” He pushed out through his teeth. He wasn’t proud of admitting a weakness, but it made her look up at him from under the blanket. “I’ll be very careful, okay? I promise.” It was clear she considered it. Her brown eyes scrutinized him and the needle he still had in his hand. Slowly, her hand emerged from under the blanket and then held it forward. 

“Atta girl.” Dean praised and quickly stroked her cheek before wiping the back of her hand with a new alcohol wipe, and then held onto her wrist. Half an inch from her skin, he hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath while he forced his eyes to keep focusing on the needle, and punctured her skin with it as he suppressed a squeamish shudder. 

“Ow!” Nat whimpered and inhaled sharply. 

The needle didn’t hit her vein. Instead, it laid parallel to it under her skin. “Sorry, I didn’t hit it,” Dean mumbled as he pulled the needle back. Trying with everything in him to focus on what he was doing and keeping his eyes on the needle, even though it stuck out of her hand in a way that made him uncomfortable. 

“Ow! Ow! Ow!” She whimpered and a tear left her eye. Nat tried to pull her hand back, but Dean tightened his grip on her wrist and kept her in place. The little twitch it gave made the needle go right through her vein. 

“Hold still!” Dean sneered, pulled the needle back, and carefully pushed it the last way in while it stayed inside her vein. “There. There! I’m done!” He hastily said to try to calm her down. His hand that had held the needle, pulled out the actual needle so there was only the small plastic catheter left in her hand. He didn’t let her wrist go yet. Her body had twisted and turned in an attempt to get free, but now stopped and she sniffed instead. Turning her head away, she coughed. 

With one hand, Dean opened the little black purse and revealed fourteen syringes. There was a small, handwritten post-it note inside it saying, ‘Two a day for 7 days.’ It wasn’t Crowley’s handwriting. Dean thought it was probably a doctor who had written the note. 

As he took one of the syringes, Nat weakly asked, “What’s that?” 

“Shh. It’s just antibiotics and painkillers. And you can’t really keep anything down, so it’s better like this. I’m gonna inject it in here.” He pointed at the catheter while he talked calmly. “Is that okay, sweetie?” She stared at him for several seconds before she finally nodded. 

Warily, she watched him inject it but didn’t protest. 

“There.” He said satisfied but tiredly and let go of her. 

“It’s cold.” She complained in a low voice. Her lower lip quivered as she pulled her hand to her chest and rubbed her wrist where Dean had held onto her. 

Dean rubbed his eyes and sat down on the floor. If he should distribute the blood to her as well, he would need to insert another intravenous needle on the inside of her elbow. 

“If I buy you ice cream or pizza or whatever you want, will you let me insert another needle for a blood transfusion?” He asked. The irritation was shining through in his voice. 

“Where?” She asked suspiciously. 

“The inside of your elbow.” He mumbled, already sure she wouldn’t let him. Well, then he just had to take the fight tomorrow. 

“Ice cream. Pistachio.” Nat whispered feebly. Surprised, Dean removed his hand and looked at her. She wiped a tear from her cheek, but her gaze was fixated at the catheter. “Two pints.” Her voice was a little stronger now. It looked like she was about to say something more, but a round of coughing prohibited her. 

“And a jar of pickles.” She demanded as soon as she stopped coughing. 

“Deal.” A small smile sneaked its way onto Dean’s lips. 

 

With less trouble than the first, Dean inserted the IV catheter and hung a bag of blood on the IV stand. Amongst everything Crowley had provided was a fishnet glove to put on her hand and some white tape to secure the one on the inside of her elbow. 

Now that all the needle stuff was over with, Dean breathed a sigh of relief, and so seemed Nat to do as well. She was all cross-eyed of exhaustion and as soon as she let herself relax, as there was no more needle-danger, she fell asleep. Before Dean decided to get some sleep himself, he carefully changed the bandages on her wrists without waking her. 

 

A door opening, footsteps, and the click of a lock woke Natasha, but she was too tired to open her eyes. Her body was still exhausted from the sickness, but she didn’t freeze as much as before Dean gave her the antibiotics. The catheter in her hand hurt every time she moved it. The one in her elbow was more tolerable. 

Dean was puttering around in the kitchen, while Natasha took stock over her ill body. Her breathing wasn’t much better. There was a wet wheezing sound accompanying every one of her strained breaths. Sweat was still enveloping her body, but not as aggressively as earlier. 

A part of her was relieved that it was ‘just’ pneumonia, though she couldn’t recall ever having been this sick in her life before. Maybe it was because of… the blood loss. Hot tears were prickling behind her closed eyelids, so she quickly pushed her failed attempt of escaping this nightmare away. 

Instead, she focused on why she was relieved to know it was ‘just’ pneumonia. It was because she thought her body had been rejecting the baby or thought the baby was killing her from the inside out. Still, with closed eyes, she put her hand on her stomach. They were gonna be okay. For now. 

“Nat, are you awake?” Dean whispered next to her. She had heard his footsteps leading him in her direction, but her eyes flew open at the sound of his voice. 

“What did you just call me?” She asked confused. Dean leaned a couple of inches back. Either surprised by her question or that she hadn't really been asleep. Then his eyes dropped from hers. 

“Natasha’s your name, right? It’s so long, so… Nat.” He explained vaguely and then shrugged without looking at her. 

It sounded wrong in Natasha’s ears because Tasha or Tash were her usual nicknames. A part of her knew it was no use telling him that. If that was what he wanted to call her, he would, no matter what she thought or what she was used to. She did after all know him that well. 

“Do you want your ice cream now or?” Dean then asked to change the subject. 

“Yes, please.” She simply answered, but kept looking at him with narrowed eyes. Studying him. Where was the malicious demon she had grown to know so well? She was still puzzled when he got up and when he returned with her favorite brand of pistachio ice cream and a spoon. Before he left, he placed the remote to the turned off TV within her reach. Natasha peeked over the back of the couch to let her eyes follow him as Dean returned to the kitchen, and then sank back against the pillow on the armrest with a chesty cough. 

All the blackout curtains were drawn beside the one farthest away from her. It had a slim slit showing it was day, but not noon yet. The window was ajar, though there was no wind, so it didn’t bother her. 

As she lifted her right arm with the spoon, she felt the catheter in her elbow and looked up. The blood bag dangling on the IV stand was almost empty. With a sigh, she tried it ignore it as she took a small spoonful and turned on the TV. While she watched _Homeland_ , she nibbled small bites off the spoon. The more she ate, the more the cold ice cream soothed her throat, but made her feel cold. 

The tiredness from the illness made sure to keep her thoughts quiet. She simply didn’t have the energy to speculate too much. There was just enough energy left for her to indifferently sit back and let herself entertain by the TV. Allowing her to momentarily forget everything else. 

Dean was still puttering around in the kitchen. She also heard a drill several times, but honestly, she didn’t care what he was doing right now as long as he left her alone. But that didn’t last for long. An hour later, he placed a glass of water and the four brown pills on the coffee table and then walked back to the kitchen without a word. She knew what she had to do, so she just took the pills. The water felt oddly warm though her hand could feel the glass was cold. Her lips and tongue were colder because of the ice cream she was still nibbling at. It was almost liquid by now as she had only eaten half, but she didn’t eat because she was hungry. She didn’t really feel any hunger, it just tasted good. It was a real comfort meal. 

Dean came back to the couch and started cleaning up the coffee table. Put the medical supplies in nice piles, took the used cups and glasses, and the used paper towels. Though he did as much as he could to avoid actually touching them while he wrinkled his nose. 

“Will you take this too?” She asked hoarsely and handed him the ice cream and spoon. 

“Sure.” He said too harshly, still, with a wrinkled nose. Seeing him be so squeamish over a little snot and slime was odd. He was a demon for god’s sake. He once told her demons didn’t get sick, so why was he so squeamish about it? She pushed it aside and snuggled deeper under the blanket. 

A minute later, Dean came back with a cup he placed on the table. From the smell of it, it was hot lemon water with sugar. Natasha didn’t even get to say thanks before he gently put his hands under her arms and lifted her so he could slide down in the crevice between her and the couch. Now she was lying between his legs with her back resting against his chest. A part of her wanted to protest, but for the last couple of minutes, her eyelids had grown heavier and soon she dozed off. 

 

It was dark when she woke again. The blood bag on the IV stand had been switched with a saline bag that was half-empty now. Dean was still on the couch with her, but there was a dirty plate on the coffee table. 

Her back and shoulders were stiff from the sitting position, but the pain in her chest had taken it down a notch, meaning her breathing wasn’t as strained though it was still chesty and wheezing. She felt cold, but as she shifted her weight, she noticed how warm Dean was and silently, she appreciated his warmth and snuggled deeper under the blanket. Natasha was still too exhausted to think or speculate more than that. 

When Dean felt her movement, his left hand began stroking her hair in a continuous rhythm. She couldn’t help but wonder where the malicious abusing demon had gone. Something came to her mind and made her eyes seek the wooden cabinet at the same end of the room as the TV and couch. The stack of photos was in the top drawer and she recalled what she had thought at that time. 

_She was almost 100% sure the people in the pictures were his family. For some time, she occupied herself with questions like, what was his family like? Were any of them like him? The pictures were very peaceful and happy, looking like a perfect family. You could see the pictures weren’t set up. The smiles reached their eyes and you could see them shine. The smiles weren’t fake, they were happy. She wondered what had happened to them and what had happened to Dean since he was like this now. How he could be such a monster when it looked like he had a loving family._

Slowly she mustered up the courage to ask, “Who were those people in the pictures?” She asked in a low and slightly timid voice. There was a risk of him getting angry, but she didn’t have the capacity to calculate or foresee the consequences of her question. 

“What pictures?” Dean asked tersely. He sounded both annoyed and absentminded as he continued to watch TV. 

“The pictures in the, um, wooden cabinet over there.” She dared to point, though more timidness was to trace in her voice, and she could feel her heartbeat increase. 

“My family.” He simply stated in a way that let her know he wanted to close the subject, but she couldn’t control her curiosity. 

“Where are they now?” She whispered. 

“My parents are dead. I lost contact with my brother after a big… uh, argument.” He told her dryly as if he was telling her what the weather forecast said. 

Maybe it was a long time ago and he had come to terms with it? Or maybe he didn’t care because he was a demon? But since she got sick, she had barely seen a hint of the malicious demon. Why? 

“Were they like you?” 

“Demons? No.” Annoyance was saturating his voice now. 

“How come you’re a…” Her voice died, as she didn’t know how to phrase it and was afraid it would infuriate him if she said it out loud. All the pictures of them were very peaceful and happy, so how come he turned out like the monster he is? 

“Because that’s something you shouldn’t burden your little pretty head with.” He snapped in a tone that clearly suggested this topic was closed. 

Her eyes were looking at the TV but she didn’t see what was on the screen. In her head, she saw the pictures from the wooden cabinet. She saw the blonde woman holding a baby that couldn’t be much older than a few months. A man with brown hair and eyes holding her and a blonde boy around the age of four. The blonde woman hugging the four or five-year-old boy from the previous picture. And with a hand on her stomach, she wondered if it would look like him.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys  
> I know it's been some time since I've updated, and that's because I've fallen ill with depression. I had it a few years back and I beat it then, so I'm also gonna beat it this time. But though I love to write, and it's my 'safe haven,' I just don't have so much energy right now.  
> I hope you enjoy this chapter. It had taken a long time to create :-)

Over the next few days, the bags with blood and saline were empty, and the black purse with antibiotics and pain medicine were close to half-empty. Natasha felt better and better for every day, though she was still far from well and the couch was still her primary spot. A nasty bruise had appeared on her hand where the intravenous catheter had been inserted, due to the two failed tries to insert it. The inside of her elbow looked a lot better. 

She was better physically than mentally. As the fever had subsided and the pain decreased, the hopelessness invaded her. Suffocated her. Made her keep hiding under the blanket on the couch. 

Natasha knew it was ridiculous, but now she missed being sicker. When she had been so sick, she was too exhausted to care where she was. Now she couldn’t forget it. 

“Can I have some pickles, please?” She asked in a raw but flat voice. Her throat and chest still suffered under her coughing that was dryer now. 

Dean sighed heavily from the kitchen as she heard the sound of the fridge opening. A few moments later, Dean handed her a jar of pickles with a fork in it without saying anything before he walked back to the kitchen. He already knew how she liked them. 

In the last few days, Natasha had gotten a stronger and stronger urge to eat pickles. At home… she mentally paused every time she thought of her old life. She swallowed thickly and continued her thoughts… At home, she always had a jar of pickles in the fridge, as she liked eating them as snacks instead of sweets. Just one or two, but now, she could consume half a jar without blinking an eye. But right now, thinking about her home, made her lose her appetite and she placed the jar on the coffee table after only eating two, while she tried to fight the tears. 

With an angry glance over her shoulder towards the kitchen where Dean was, she thought, _it’s all your fault._

 _And yours_. She thought as she scowled to her stomach. A little bump the size of an orange was starting to show on her lower abdomen as she had lost a few pounds while being sick. She wasn’t sure if her belly had grown or if the fat was just gone. 

The flare of anger deflated and hopelessness occupied her again instead. As she had thought earlier – it was easier when she had been sicker. She hadn't had the energy to think too much. 

Dean interrupted her gloomy thoughts when he sat down on the couch with a plate containing his dinner. Natasha had to pull her legs up under her to make room for him. 

“Want some?” He asked tersely, though he knew the answer. Every day since she had been sick, she had declined anything else than pickles and pistachio ice cream. Two times, he had force fed her, and both times, it had come right up again. She could better keep the pickles and ice cream down though it sometimes returned too. 

“No, thanks. I’m not hungry.” She rasped, followed by a cough. 

“No wonder when you’re stuffing yourself with pickles and ice cream.” Dean snapped and shot her an annoyed glance before starting to eat. 

“I can’t keep anything else down,” Natasha replied in a feeble and apologizing voice. Since she had been sick, there had hardly been any sign of that demon she had grown to know. Instead, he was rude and brusque, but not exactly demon-like. 

Quickly, she had figured out how being weak made sure to keep the demon away. Both being physically weak and mentally weak seemed to keep his menacing side at bay. She hid the defiant glances she had the urge to send him sometimes and let the hopelessness replace it along with coughs and a weak voice. She made herself smaller and pathetic. She felt sorry for herself and her situation. And it worked. Or maybe she had really become small. Small and scared. Her rational side told her to lay low, to avoid angering him, so she could avoid punishment, but her nature told her to fight, to find a way to escape this prison and him. Though those flares of defiance were quickly cooled by her misery. Right now, both pulled equally in her. 

Dean ignored the truth in what she was saying and instead said, “you’re gonna look like a beached whale if you keep that up.” His voice was terse again, but lacking the menace and anger. 

“No, I’m not.” Her voice was a whisper to conceal the contempt she felt. If anything, she was thinner. She reminded more of a recovering anorexic than a beached whale right now. 

“Do not talk back to be.” Dean sneered, but without raising his voice. Instead, he pointed at her with the knife in his right hand and looked at her like she was a child who knew what it had done wrong. She was tempted to return his hard gaze, but let her eyes drop to the blanket covering her as a hint of fear spiked through her system. 

Then it was replaced by despair. He didn’t have to yell or punish her to keep her in line anymore. He had tamed her. And that made her feel claustrophobic. 

Dean returned to eating his dinner without either of them saying anymore. After he finished and cleaned up, he demanded her to move over and make space for him to lie behind her. He did that every night now and Natasha sighed in surrender. If she tried to create a few inches of space between them, Dean would just hook an arm around her waist and pull her back, forcing her to spoon with him, and then he would start nuzzling her and kiss her neck and cheek. He was less prone to do that if she surrendered from the beginning. So instead of watching the movie he had put on, she closed her eyes and tried to mentally escape him. Focused on the sounds from the TV, how her body hadn't completely recovered, mostly the slight pain with every breath was the best to distract her. Her body hadn't healed completely, but her mind was clear. 

 

Natasha had almost fallen asleep when something rose in her throat. Her head snapped up and she hectically looked around for the bucket. “I’m gonna throw up.” She exclaimed before she clamped a hand over her mouth, hoping to keep it in long enough to make it to the bathroom. But in a blink of the eye, Dean found the bucket behind the armrest, held it forth and grabbed her hair just in time for her to empty what was left of the two pickles she ate earlier and a lot of stomach acid that burned her already sore throat. Her stomach cramped a few times and she groaned, as she didn’t have any more to throw up. 

When Natasha leaned back and exhaustedly slumped against Dean’s chest, Dean grabbed some paper towels and wiped her mouth before getting up to clean the bucket for the next time that would come sooner or later. At least once a day nausea overwhelmed her, so the bucket was almost permanently stationed beside the couch. 

Natasha let her hand wipe the clammy moisture from her forehead, and inhaled the slight breeze that barely brushed over her face. 

Breeze…

Breeze! 

Her eyes flew open and locked on the window farthest away from the couch. The blackout curtain was almost fully drawn, only revealing a slit of two inches, but it was enough for her to see the window was ajar. 

Dean almost never opened a door or window unless she was chained or too sick to make a run for it. As she sat up, her head snapped toward the bathroom. If the door had been open, Dean would have been able to see her, but it was almost fully closed. She heard him mutter and complain about cleaning up after her, he always let her know how much trouble she was to him. 

A new layer of sweat covered her body as her heart rate increased, making it thump loudly against her ribcage as her head snapped back and forth between the bathroom door and the window. Then she heard the water running. Should she? Could she? A hundred thoughts flew through her mind in seconds before the urge to flee from her claustrophobic feeling overwhelmed her and she got up from the couch with a little struggle. Tiptoeing towards the window, Natasha fought to keep her heart and her breathing under control. She felt a cough pressing in her throat. For a few seconds, she tried to hold it in and felt how her face turned red of strain until she couldn’t hold it back anymore. Trying to suppress the cough had been a bad idea. It ripped in her chest and throat and she had to bend over and seek support on her knees. 

_Fuck_ , she mimed to herself when she finally stopped coughing. With a stilled breath, she listened, tried to determine if Dean knew something wasn’t right, but all she could hear was the pulse in her ears. 

The toilet flushed out and made her jump and gasp. Her heart increased its wild gallop in her chest. She didn’t have much time left. Natasha walked the last three steps to the window and gently tried to push it up, praying that it wouldn’t creak, but she couldn’t move it. Slowly, she pressed a little harder, but it wouldn’t move. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” She chanted silently to herself and pressed harder. If she didn’t get this window up soon, Dean would catch her before she could make it back to the couch and he would punish her. She couldn’t let that happen! Hot prickling tears gathered at the corner of her eyes as that realization hit her. Now, she was pressing so hard, her arms shook from the strain. 

“Please, please, please…” She begged silently and squeezed her eyes shut. Another cough was pressing in her throat, but she clenched her teeth and held it back. Why wouldn’t that stupid window move? Natasha could feel the panic rising in her. Frantically, she opened her eyes and let them search the window for some explanation to why it wouldn’t open more. The lock on it was unlocked, so why couldn’t she open the fucking window!? Her eyes raked back and forth until… there! A safety clasp! How could she have been this blind? 

Quickly, she unclasped it and finally, she was able to push the window fully open without it creaking. Natasha breathed such a loud sigh of relief that it was almost a sob and then swung her left leg up. She gave a little push with her right foot that made her dangle on the windowsill on her stomach and chest. All the days on the couch and the strain of having pushed so hard on the window before she noticed the clasp, made her loose her grip and she tumbled out of the window. As she landed on her back on the gravel, she felt all the air leave her lungs with a loud ‘whoosh.’ For a few moments, Natasha found herself free, but unable to move. Her thoughts raced and she could taste the panic at the back of her throat. If she didn’t get up now and ran, she wouldn’t have a chance! 

Rolling to her stomach, she tried to heave in a breath, but her lungs felt useless. Though somehow she managed to pull herself up on all four and started crawling. Crawling was better than lying still. After a yard, Natasha got to her feet, but she still couldn’t breathe properly. Instead, she felt how her cough got stuck in her chest along with her breathing. She clenched her teeth and pushed through it, told her legs to run even without air. Her sight blurred as she, through her nose, heaved in uneven breaths that seem to get stuck before they could relieve her lungs. 

She hadn't come far when the strain became too much and she collapsed on her knees. The heel of her hands hit the gravel and prevented her face from impacting with the ground. Natasha only got an ounce of air into her lungs before the coughs broke free and shook so violently through her body that it made her believe her face was turning a purplish color and that she would retch up her lungs. The tears streamed down her face from her almost choking on her own coughs, and at that moment, she couldn’t think of anything else than being unable to breathe until a strong arm wrapped around her midsection, squeezing out what little air she had in her lungs, and lifted her from the ground. 

No, no, no, no! Natasha wanted to wail, but she could still hardly breathe and it was even more difficult now that she was dangling at Dean’s right side. All she could see through her strained tears were the gravel and his boots, walking her back to her prison. 

Why did she even try? She hadn't succeeded any of the other times, why would she be able to now where she was sick? She was stupid. So stupid. That was why she was stupid enough to go with him home that fatal night that changed her existence. It was her own fault that she was here now because she was so fucking stupid. And in a few moments, she would be punished for her stupidity. In this moment, she wished she had never tried to run away. Again.

As soon as Dean stepped inside the small hall, he threw Natasha to the floor with so much force she rolled across the floor three times. The ability to breathe still hadn't come to her, but when he slammed the front door, she could feel it in her bones, and that seemed to make way for a scream of terror. She heaved in a breath that finally reached her lungs as she curled up on the floor, ready to protect herself from the inevitable punishment. 

Dean kneeled over her with a knee on either side of her curled up body and ripped her to her back. He captured both her flailing hands with his left and pinned them to the floor on her right side. A few fearful screams found their way through her throat with the coughs as she uselessly tried to fight him, but stopped as soon as her wrists were locked by his hand. 

Natasha stole a frantic glance up at him, and then she couldn’t take her eyes away from him again in pure fear. The anger was blazing in his green eyes, his jaw clenched harder than she thought possible, and his upper lip raised in obvious contempt. His right hand was raised and clenched into a fist, hovering over her, ready to punch her. 

Through her less aggressive coughing, she managed to beg him, “Please, please, _please_ …” The last one ended in a weak cough. 

His right fist was clenched so hard his knuckles were white and it was trembling dangerously in the air. The tears poured from her eyes, not only from the coughing as fear spiked through her entire system. 

“I should spank you so hard you’ll never forget it,” Dean growled as he clenched his teeth even harder and let his head tilt back to be able to look further down on her. His right fist fell to his side, his left hand released her, and he got to his feet before Natasha could comprehend what had happened. 

Now that her hands were free, she covered her head and rolled as much to her side as she could with Dean’s boots solidly planted on each side of her waist. A sob broke through her throat as she heard the ominous sound of his belt jingling and being pulled out of its loops. The belt made a loud and threatening snapping sound as he straightened it out in front of him. Natasha couldn’t help her body from jolting at the snap and another sob managed to break through from her. It seemed like the coughing had stopped in pure fear. Stiff as a board, Natasha awaited the first hit. Her eyes were already squeezed shut, and she could hear her galloping pulse in her ears while it felt like her heart were on its way out of her hurting chest. 

She couldn’t take this. She was already in so much pain. Her chest felt like someone had dropped two-thousand pounds on it, her knees and hands were scraped to blood from her fall, and her bandaged wrists hurt from his grip. 

Natasha almost held her breath in the agonizing anticipation of the first hit from the belt, but the seconds passed without anything happening. Her muscles trembled as they tried to remain stiff in a useless attempt to protect her from the assault. 

The sound on the belt smacking caused her body to jump and she screamed before she realized the belt hit the carpet next to her instead of her skin. At the sound of Dean’s boots walking away from her, she dared to open her eyes. The belt was lying next to her. 

Was that it? Natasha had barely thought the thought through when Dean turned around and marched back to her. No, it wasn’t. He wasn’t done. He would hurt her now, she was sure of it. She curled herself into a ball on the floor, already screaming in the prospect of pain before he reached her.

Again, he ripped her to her back, planted a knee on each side of her, and knelt over her. In a futile attempt, she tried to crawl backward away from him, but she barely got one foot away before Dean’s left hand locked around her throat, and his weight dropped down on her stomach, effectively capturing her underneath him. 

Both her hands clawed at his wrist in a fruitless attempt to remove his hand and stop him from choking her. Her legs kicked helplessly behind him. Then his right hand pulled back and slapped her cheek so hard it rang through her skull and stopped her resistance. 

Still, with the anger ablaze in his eyes, he drew his face so close to hers, their noses touched. “I _hate_ you!” He sneered loudly through clenched teeth, his voice filled to the breaking point with contempt. 

Natasha was shocked. She had expected corporal punishment. With this, she didn’t know what she could expect, and that might have frightened her even more than physical retribution, making her lie completely still underneath him, awaiting his next unforeseeable move. Though her mouth was wide open, uselessly trying to draw in a breath as his hand was still wrapped tightly around her throat. The tears poured noiselessly down her temples. Dark spots were appearing in her vision. 

“Filthy little bitch!” Dean sneered in the same contemptuous tone. By her throat, he lifted her an inch and slammed her head down on the carpet before he finally let her go and marched away. 

Natasha heaved in a deep breath before she continued in an uncontrolled sobbing and coughing. 

What had just happened? 

Confused, she rolled to her side, hugging her knees close to her chest to make herself as small as possible. A part of her was deeply relieved that she only had gotten slapped and choked, another part was terrified of Dean’s unpredictable and mercurial behavior. Now she had no idea what to expect. Right now, he was a loose cannon. At any moment, he could change his mind, come back, and punish her if he felt like it. The other times, she knew when her punishment was over. She didn’t this time, she didn’t even know if her punishment had started yet or if it would. 

 

Natasha kept lying on the floor. Her sobbing was only interrupted by chesty coughs, more forceful because of the sobbing rippling through her. She was scared, she was discouraged, she was distraught. 

She was lost and she felt empty.  
Minutes went by, maybe even an hour or two before Dean came, grabbed her upper arm, and pulled her upper body a foot from the floor. 

This was it. Now she was getting punished. Her noiseless crying was replaced with a hoarse scream that broke into a yelp when he jammed the syringe into her upper arm and injected the antibiotic before throwing her back to the floor. She had barely hit it when he pulled her back by her hair. Dean kneeled down next to her, so his lips were right next to her ear. “Stop crying or I’m gonna rethink spanking your ass into next month. Got it?” His voice was cold and calculating. She barely dared to breathe. Punishment wasn’t off the table yet. 

“Got it?” He nearly yelled, and Natasha yelped in fearfulness and then nodded hectically and tearfully as much as she could with his fist in her hair, keeping her head up. First then, he let her go and left her alone. 

With an uneven breath, Natasha kept lying on the floor and rubbed her hurting upper arm. More confused than ever. He wouldn’t do anymore if she just stopped crying? Nothing about this added up in her mind. Her body continued to stay rigid in case Dean changed his mind. She couldn’t believe that she was this lucky. 

Lucky? The depression and hopelessness enveloped her and made sure she couldn’t find a reason to get up from the floor for the next many hours. Her life had been reduced to a fuck doll incubator.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***EDIT***  
> I rewrote this chapter a bit. Hope you like it better now :-D  
> _____________________________________________________________________________  
> Yay, I did it. Finally, I sat down and the words flowed! Like they used to do!  
> Now that I've written so much, I wanted to post something today for you. So this chapter is a bit short, but I thought that a little was better than nothing.  
> Please be honest with feedback, I feel totally out of the game right now (plus I'm actually down with the flu at the moment XD So my head's a bit fuzzy) But it helps me a lot more with honest and constructive feedback :-)  
> Happy reading :-D

She had stopped sobbing as Dean had demanded, but a lonely tear streaked down her temple now and then, unable to be stopped as all her energy was put into keeping the sobs from trembling through her body and reveal themselves by coming out of her mouth. With every cough that with regular intervals shook through her body, a single pathetic sob sneaked its way through her throat. Luckily, for Natasha, it was well camouflaged by the coughs. 

She didn’t know when it happened, but at some point, the sobs stopped pressing in her throat. Now, it was only the coughs that left a rasping sensation. Her rigid body gradually relaxed, mostly because of exhaustion. 

Though she was drained physically and mentally, hopelessness occupied her. The strain from sickness and trying to escape made her muscles and joints feel like jelly even now where she just laid still. It helped on her mind that had been so clear before her attempt. Besides hopelessness, a disquietude kept her alert and prickling aware of Dean’s silent but intimidatory presence on the couch with his back turned towards her. It felt like the simple being of him in the room was enough to cause distress. 

Lying on the floor, she could nothing but think. She had a hard time distracting herself. She could only study the fibers of the carpet for so long until her thoughts got the upper hand. Reminding her of her miserable situation. Again, she wished she were sicker, so sick she couldn’t care. What kind of life made you want to be sick just so you wouldn’t care? Mentally, she tried to find a switch where she could turn it all off, but couldn’t find it. Then she searched her mind for a storage box where she could put all the misery in and lock it away but found no such thing. She could only be. She could only feel. The physical discomfort of gnawing hunger, coldness, and hard surface of the carpeted floor could only distract her for so long. 

At some point, her hunger escalated so much it transformed to nausea. Clamping her teeth together, she pressed her lips so tightly together they formed a pale line. She still didn’t dare to raise herself from the floor. Even though she could see the bucket next to the couch from her place she would do anything to keep back whatever was trying to return from her stomach. Because what if she accidentally summoned the malevolent demon, which had stayed somewhat absent since before she was sick? She would almost do anything to keep it at bay. Keep it in hibernation because she couldn’t believe it was gone. It wasn’t. He was still a ruthless, soulless demon who held her captive and abused her every way imaginable. But she wouldn’t give up her temporary free pass. 

She knew being weak kept him away. Or maybe that was before she so stupidly tried to flee out of that open window. She didn’t know what to expect now and she’d rather just make herself invisible. 

In her attempt to stay invisible, her eyes had closed and she had, almost without noticing, drifted off into a light sleep. 

A few times, she woke purely from discomfort. Instantly, her muscles stiffened by the memories of yet another pathetically failed attempt. Her heart almost hopped to her throat before she dared to look around only to find the room dark except the flashed from the TV. The first few times, she had been able to see the back of Dean’s head as he sat on the couch, but at some point, he was gone. The turned on TV indicated that he had laid down on the couch, either still watching or asleep. She didn’t know and she didn’t plan on finding out. She would stick to her ‘be as invisible as possible to avoid angering the demon’-plan. So, Natasha stayed on the floor even when the cold bit into her bones and even when the hunger made her stomach turn itself inside out. She didn’t dare to move or make a sound in fear of vexing him, which could ultimately lead to him rethinking the absence of her punishment. 

Natasha kept drifting in and out of sleep on the hard floor. It was the best option for her as it was right now. Sleep made the time go by faster, or so she thought, as she couldn’t see a clock from her position. No other plan had presented itself in her mind, so she fled into sleep again until a sharp pain woke her up with a feeble gasp. By instinct, she tried to back away before she even opened her eyes, but something stopped her and yanked her back. Then her eyes sought the cause for her sudden uncomfortable wakeup and saw Dean kneeling beside her where he had a tight hold of her right forearm. 

“Lie still.” He instructed brusquely without looking into her eyes. 

With a gulp, she remained still. Her eyes dropped to the floor in an attempt to seem as submissive as possible, hoping to please him in some way. That was when her eyes caught the dirty bandage from her wrist stained with dried blood and dust from the gravel driveway was beside him. Her senses zoomed in on the pain through the fog of fuzziness that still laid around her mind from the sleep, and she could now locate it. Dean unfazed continued dapping her bare but healing wrist with a piece of cotton wetted in something that stung. 

Slowly, as the immediate sense of danger dissolved, she let her body slump down against the hard, carpeted floor. To make sure the danger stayed dissolved she turned her face away from him where she freely let the stinging show on her face, but without a sound. Still afraid of irritating him. The pain moved to her palm, more prominent this time as she felt something digging into her skin. She stole a hasty peek at her palm before turning her head away again. With a pair of tweezers, he was fishing out the small pieces of gravel that had stuck in the wound of her palm after her fall yesterday. It hurt more than when he had cleaned the wound on her wrist because he had to pry the wounds and scratches open to get them out. It was almost blissful when he proceeded to clean her palm with a piece of cotton wetted in iodine. 

As he was done, he wrapped a new clean bandage around her wrists and tersely ordered, “Other hand.” 

Natasha put her left hand forward and scooted closer to him, so she was able to keep her face turned away from him while the prying and cleaning caused different grimaces of pain before he finally stopped and wrapped her left wrist in a new, clean bandage. 

He had barely fastened the bandage around her wrist before he snapped, “To the bedroom.” Fleetingly, her eyes sought his in an endeavor to determine his next actions, but his green eyes never met hers. His gaze was directed at his right hand collecting the dirty bandages, cotton, iodine, and what else were on the floor, while his left hand pointed unwaveringly and mercilessly toward the bedroom. 

Natasha swallowed thickly, immediately apprehensive. Slowly, she raised herself from the floor and stole another glance at him once she was on her feet. 

As if he sensed her agitated stare and hesitation, he pointed toward the bedroom again, and she saw his jaw tighten. In hopes of pleasing him, she, with dragging steps, walked to the bedroom. Her mood dropping below the freezing point and not only because her entire body was stiff and cold from the evening and night on the floor. 

In the bedroom, she placed herself beside the bed where she wrapped her arms around herself and, again, swallowed thickly to keep the bitter taste of fear away from the back of her throat. A part of her thought that this was it. It was now her punishment had come. Of course, she wasn’t that lucky, that she could get away with a stunt like that yesterday without punishment. And prolonging the punishment was worse than immediate punishment. At least with the latter, you knew when it had come and when it was over. You didn’t with the former. It was subjective. Lightning could strike at any given moment. A shudder of fear coursed through her. Waiting to punish her for so long meant more bottled up anger… no, fury. It was definitely fury at this point. His calm façade didn’t fool her. He was like a snake that could lash out at you any second. And here she stood. Like a rabbit caught in the headlights in the dark night. Just awaiting the inevitable. But what else could she do? There was nothing to do that wouldn’t make it worse. She started biting the hollow of her cheek as the overwrought conquered her mind. 

As she heard his footsteps bringing him to the bedroom, she squeezed her eyes shut and clutched harder onto her slender upper arms, deprived of any fat there had been before she got sick. The only thing she could feel was what was left of the muscles and the bone, which seemed to rattle of the imminent danger. 

A weak sound escaped her lips when his footsteps came to a halt and she felt Dean’s presence right in front of her. She could almost feel his hot breath on her forehead. “Lie down.” He commanded, though his words weren’t as harsh as the push she received on her shoulder that made her bounce backward onto the bed accompanied by a surprised, hoarse yelp. 

Dean crawled onto the bed, and before she could even think, her body was already on its way to the opposite side of the bed. Right before she would slide over the edge and fall to the floor, a hand around her upper arm stopped her and yanked her back to the middle of the bed where Dean’s figure loomed over her. 

“No, please,” She weakly pleaded along with her futile attempt of breaking free of his grip. At the next second, a high-pitched cry wrenched her lips apart as the steel of the handcuffs tightened around her wounded wrist. Her shriek of pain was immediately silenced when Dean’s right hand grabbed her jaw and ripped it to the side to face him. 

Her teary eyes looked up at his cold, calculating expression. “Stop being hysterical and I might loosen the cuff a bit.” His tone was low but pushed bitterly through his teeth, and he tightened the cuff even more, which evoked a pained yelp from her. 

Natasha clamped her lips together as if it was a reflex and silenced the sound at the back of her throat, while the unshed tears burned at the back of her eyes. Dean’s green eyes, darkened by something she couldn’t determine, scrutinized her brown ones until he was sure she remained calm. He narrowed his eyes further before loosening the cuff, and as a silent request for her other wrist, he held his hand forth. Warily, she placed her wrist in his hand where he led it up to the head of the bed and cuffed it. She could feel the cold steel encircling her wrists through the fabric of the bandage. 

When he had made sure the cuffs were as loose as they could get without her being able to pull them off, he grabbed onto her jaw again and wrenched her face toward his. “After your little stunt yesterday, I’m not taking any chances.” Dean’s eyes were still narrowed as if in suspicion to what she might conquer up of defiance, but her face remained blank until she tried to turn it away to cough. 

With his level of disgust for anything unsanitary, he let her, and to his satisfaction, which almost caused a smile, she willingly turned her head back to his when she was done. Still, he latched onto her jaw again to make sure she would keep looking at him, though, with a lighter grip than before. 

Her whole being was still filled with an uneasiness as his mercurial behavior that made it impossible to predict his next move. For all she knew, he could turn on a dime and tap into that pile of uncompleted punishment from yesterday, or just leave her alone. As it was right now, it was a fifty-fifty shot. Uselessly, she tried to find a hint buried in his dark eyes, but they were unreadable, almost ambivalent like he couldn’t even decide himself. And before he could, he leaned closer to her, planted a short but rough kiss on her lips. Under him, she remained passive. Hoping that it would go no further than this. 

Finally, his lips left hers and he let her jaw loose with a demeaning push and turned his back to her. A whoosh of air left her lungs in relief when he was out of sight, but the sudden passing of air in her throat made her cough. As the small coughing fit was over she blinked several times to clear her eyes from the tears that had brimmed, but not left her eyes, but it was too soon. 

Natasha heard how he turned on his heels on the carpet and marched back into the bedroom. The fear rushed through her, as she was sure his sadistic side had finally surfaced with the repressed lust for her pain from yesterday. Squeezing her eyes shut while trying her best to brace herself from whatever he might do, the sudden pain in her upper arm came unexpectedly and startled her. 

After jamming the syringe deep into her arm, Dean quickly tucked the duvet that laid next to her around her body, so she was wrapped like a cocoon between the duvet below and above her. Without a word, he turned on his heels again, marched out of the bedroom, and slammed the door behind him. The click of the lock brought Natasha some sort of comfort. Being chained and left alone wasn’t the worst punishment. If this was even her punishment. She couldn’t figure it out. His behavior after her pathetic unfruitful attempt of escape and until now puzzled her, to say the least. She found herself on unsteady land where she didn’t know what to expect. He treated her harshly, but still cared enough about her well-being to give her the shots to ensure her healing and make sure she wouldn’t be cold. Or when she laid on the floor, he didn’t seem to care, but now he did. Or did he? The questions circled her mind for a few minutes before she settled on one thing; he was still the snake waiting for the right opportunity to attack and sink his venomous teeth into her being. 

But venomous snakes aren’t the scariest. Their prey only suffers for seconds. The most tormenting attacks come from those that would rather kill their prey by strangulation. An undeniably slow and painful demise awaits its prey. 

No matter what she did, he would always have the upper hand. He would always be the predator and her, his prey. There was no way to undo that. It was simply a fact as long as she was in this house. 

 

Dean slammed the door of the Impala shut as his teeth gritted against each other. Closing his eyes, he heaved in a deep breath through his nose, but it didn’t calm the stinging of betrayal he still felt from yesterday. It only made the anger go from burning to scorching. 

He felt like punishing her. Really hurt her, so she would just succumb to him as he had thought she had finally done. He thought she had learned her place, especially now where she had been sick. Thought she had learned that he would provide for her, take care of her in exchange for her submission. Thought she had learned that it was easier if she just did as she was told, just did what he wanted her to do. But then she goes ahead and pull a stunt like that, and then look up at him with her big piteous brown doe eyes and her slow but steadily growing belly. Was this an act like when she had acted depressed? Or was it a spur of the moment, a rash decision? Whatever it was, she had defied him. She’d been disobedient. And for some reason, this bothered him more than anything else she had done. 

It wasn’t until he felt the pain in his palms that he noticed his hands were clenched so hard, his short fingernails had punctured the skin. As he relaxed his fingers, he let out a snort of frustration. Frustration for her – and for himself. Closing his eyes, he let the events of last night run through his mind. 

His fist had been clenched, ready to deliver what she deserved for infringing him. He had held the belt in his hand, seconds away from using it. What had held him back? She clearly deserved it. Following through with punishment had never been a problem for him since he became a demon. Never had he hesitated, so why did he now? He wasn’t even sure he could answer it himself. Or maybe he didn’t want to dig deeper and discover it. 

To distract himself from even considering digging deeper, he moved on to what had happened next. When he had said he hated her. It instantly reminded him of when she had yelled it in his face. Though it hadn’t perturbed him – still didn’t. She was in a bad state, really bad state when she said that. He wasn’t when he repeated the words back to her. But the truth was he didn’t hate her… he had to admit that to himself. What he couldn’t admit… what he wouldn’t admit was _what_ he did, but he did not hate her. It was his frustration talking. He _hated_ what she made him _feel_. He _hated_ what she made him do or don’t do. He _hated_ that she made him stray away from his fire and brimstone path as a demon. Had she padded his path with something more soft? 

No. He wouldn’t let that happen. Or had it already happened? He sighed and then instantly clenched his teeth. She did stir something in him. but again, he wasn’t ready to explore what it was. He would rather stay in uncertainty, closer to his true nature. 

 

Shaking his head as if it would help getting the thoughts physically out of his head, he finally let the frustration get the upper hand in him and focused solemnly on that one particular thing. It was easier when he was away from her. 

“Stupid little vexatious bitch.” He grumbled as he turned the key in the ignition, and sped down the driveway. 

 

Natasha had a harder time distracting herself from the gnawing pain in her famished stomach. With the impending danger of Dean’s presence had claimed some of her minds capacity it had been easier. Now, she could clearly feel that the little she had eaten yesterday had come up again shortly after. With all her willpower, she tried to focus on something else. But it was hard. Thinking of Dean and what had happened in the past twelve hours wasn’t a subject she wanted to explore further. Even in her head, it was like a half engaged mousetrap you didn’t know if or when it would suddenly go off. 

She tried to curl herself up under the covers to ease the pain in her stomach and for a short moment let herself enjoy the softness and warmth of the bed, though it couldn’t stop her coughing. 

As a result of her hunger, she couldn’t help but think of the energy draining thing inside of her. For every minute, it drew something from her body. Blood, oxygen, nutrition… 

The claustrophobic feeling returned. Filling her with despair and gloom. And she couldn’t shake it off. But she had to. Or did she? What was the point? 

A smaller part of her surfaced, trying to convince her that even though there might not be a way out, she couldn’t be defeated. She couldn’t submit to him because then, she would lose herself completely. With that small voice in her head, she tried to distance herself from the doldrums state she was heading into, but found herself unable to find the strength to get that last push, and in the end, the best alternative to lead her thoughts away was to focus on the hunger burning a hole in her stomach. 

 

At some point, she heard Dean come back. By instinct, her body stiffened and with pricked ears, she tried to determine his moves, but all she could hear was the thrumming of her pulse in her ears. So when the whirring sound of the power drill started, Natasha jumped, startled by the sudden loud sound. 

For some time, Dean puttered around in the house. The longer he went on with whatever he was doing, the calmer Natasha felt. Because the longer he did whatever he was doing, the longer she was free of him. And hopefully, he would put all his energy into whatever project he was doing and let her misstep slide, just this one time.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another, hopefully, satisfying chapter for you guys.   
> I just wanted to let you know I'm hosting an _awesome_ LNE giveaway on my FB. Link [here](https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=549335612083185&id=429847084032039&hc_location=ufi)  
>  It's super easy to participate, and you can win awesome gifts :-D

It had been hours. Natasha heard Dean move around the house. Hammering, drilling, etcetera. Her stomach growled in protest of its emptiness, her throat was dry due to the lack of water and the many, many coughing fits. Having her hands tethered above her head only made them worse, and with every other, tears rose to her eyes, and she could feel her face turning redder before she managed to heave in small breaths between the coughs. 

By the time Dean was finally done with whatever he was doing to the house, Natasha was exhausted and drained of almost all her energy. The layer of clammy moisture on her body convinced her that she’d had a relapse. So when Dean opened the door and approached her, she was too tired to care. As he looked down on her, she coughed weakly. It rasped in her throat as her lungs wanted her to cough more powerfully, but her body simply couldn’t manage to conjure up the strength to do so. 

“You look like shit,” Dean muttered with a wrinkled nose as he released her from the cuffs. “Get up.” He barked before she even had to chance to do it herself. 

Swinging her legs over the bedside, she bent over in a coughing fit where she could barely breathe. Faintly, she heard Dean sigh impatiently. When the last cough left her mouth, she dried her eyes from the tears that had been forced down her cheeks and stood up before she made Dean lose his patience completely. The possibility of him collecting her punishment debt was still too close. 

“C-can I have some water, please?” She dared to ask with a rasping voice as she rounded the corner of the bedroom doorframe. In front of her, Dean spun around to face her. A thick swallow got stuck in her Sahara-like throat, but the words he spoke wasn’t what she had expected. 

“Why don’t you go get it yourself?” A hint of a sly smile crossed his lips as he gestured towards the kitchen. 

Natasha’s eyes followed his gesturing hand and they caught the glimpse of something shiny, something out of place. As she took a few steps closer, she could make out what it was. Locks. Locks on most of the drawers. So that was what he had been doing. 

“I did it the other day, you’ve just been too sick to notice,” Dean informed her unfazed and played with the keyring that now held several keys besides the car key and the key to the front door. 

“Wha–” She stopped herself before she could utter the word completely. Something dawned in her mind and she faintly remembered him doing something in the kitchen while she was sick. 

So, if he did this the other day, what did he do today? Her brown eyes inconspicuously swept what was in their range of the house. 

“Go on.” Dean prompted and gave her a light push towards the kitchen. For a moment, Natasha had completely forgotten about the water her throat so desperately needed. Apprehensively, she neared the kitchen. Her hand hesitated an inch away from the handle to the cupboard over the sink where the glasses were. With his ingenious and never-ending schemes, she imagined something springing out when she opened it. Or maybe she would get tased by the handle. Or something entirely different but not painless. 

For every second, she could feel Dean’s increasingly piercing eyes on her back, and she knew she had to do something soon before he lost his temper. Heaving in a deep breath through her nose, she closed her eyes and reached out for the handle. Nothing happened immediately and she dared to take a peek as she opened the cupboard. Again nothing. In confusion, her brow furrowed, but she proceeded to take a glass and filled it. 

“Wait,” Dean interjected right before the glass touched her lips. 

_What now?_ She thought discouraged and let the hand leading the glass fall until it stood on the table. It had been too easy. A part of her knew there was some sort of catch. Though she had worried without reason. All he did was to place four brown pills on the table next to the water. She still didn’t know what they were, but she dutifully threw them in her mouth and led the glass to her lips. The water that finally flowed down her throat felt like silk but the glass was empty too soon. She filled it again and chugged it down without even breathing, so when she put it down, she panted a few times. Catching her breath, she stared quizzically at Dean, who met her gaze calmly. Something wasn’t right. She couldn’t figure out what it was yet, but she saw it lurk at the back of his green eyes.

Cooling her throat and get something in her stomach, even though it sloshed now, made her feel much better. Physically, at least. Perhaps she wasn’t having such a big relapse as she had first thought. 

“Why don’t you open a window, it stinks like something died in here.” He tilted his head and let his gaze that was now conniving, wander up and down her, indicating he was clearly talking about her. Yes, the flannel she was wearing stank of sweat, but it wasn’t _that_ bad. 

Now she knew he was up to something and trepidation filled her. As she hesitated, he nodded towards the window closest to them, the one besides the small hall where the door was closed. Warily, she snuck in an arc around him to make sure she was just out of reach as she passed him. On the way to the window, she kept him in sight, just at the corner of her eye. But he just kept standing in the kitchen, leaning up against the wall, his defined arms crossed, and a mischievous smirk plastered onto his lips. 

At the window, Natasha hesitated as she had done with the cupboard, unsure what to expect. Her mind suffused with red flags, but she overcame her apprehension in fear of consequences if she didn’t do as she was told, and opened the window. 

A piercing, hair-raising ringing echoed through the house and made her cover her ears as her body jolted in shock. 

With no notice, the ear-shattering sound stopped abruptly. Without wanting it, her brown eyes sought Dean, who stood triumphantly with his phone raised. His thumb indicated the button he had pressed on the screen to make the tinnitus-inducing alarm stop. 

Her hands fell from her ears and she felt her face turn ashen as his expression changed. His penetrating gaze held her eyes in place as he slowly strolled through the room. His jaw was clenched, his brow furrowed and made his eyes appear darker though she could see the reined in anger that blazed in his eyes. 

This was it. Now her punishment had come. By instinct, she backed until the wall stopped her and she shrunk in her place. As his last step brought him so close to her, she could feel his hot breath on her forehead, her eyes dropped timidly from his. 

“Do you think I like doing this to my own house? _My_ home?” He asked acerbically. His icy voice didn’t match his heated gaze that nearly burned her. 

“No, I don’t. But clearly, you can’t be trusted. At all. Everything with a pointy end is locked away from you. I’ve installed an alarm system that’s connected to all the doors and all the windows. I’ll be notified if you just as much as think of looking at it. And if I’m not home and the alarm sounds, you better pray I reach you first before the demons I’ll have Crowley stationed close by do. 

The windows will only be opened when you’re chained. That’s a whole lot of work from my side. My home has been invaded by your useless, disobedient, _betraying_ little ass. So from now on, you’re gonna start doing _a lot_ of things for me. I’ll go into specific details later. Got it?” His voice was barely raised, but it was barbed with authority that rumbled through her bones, making her shiver at the weight it carried. 

“Y-yes. I get it. I’m sorry.” She whispered timidly. She didn’t feel much bigger than three inches, or maybe it was her spirit that had been crushed and reduced to so little. The lengths he was willing to go to keep her in line was extensive. His hold of her was substantial – he didn’t have to yell or punish her to keep her in line anymore. She was tamed and timid. 

The realization of that brought hot prickling tears to her eyes and her shoulder slumped even further in defeat. She was never getting out of here. 

“Sorry?” Dean thundered, and for the first time, he raised his voice significantly. “You really think sorry is gonna cut it here?” His palm struck down on her left cheek and made her yelp in shock, but before she could raise her hands to her hurting cheek, he promptly backhanded her, causing a louder yelp from her. Both her hands flew to her red skin on each side of her head. Quickly, he removed them, grabbed onto her jaw, and drew his face so close to hers, their noses touched. 

“That’s what you get for betraying me.” He spat fiendishly in her face. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” She sobbed frightened as the tears spilled down her red and heated cheeks. 

“You better be,” The words were pushed spitefully out through his clenched teeth. “Otherwise, you won't get off as easy as yesterday.” He tilted his head back to be able to look further down on her as his upper lip was raised in contempt. His hold on her jaw tightened further, making a frightened shrill sound leave her lips before he pulled her forth and smacked the back of her head against the wall. 

His grip on her jaw loosened and he moved his hand down to her throat, posing an imminent threat without cutting off her airways. To get some distance, she automatically turned her head to the side, away from him, and he drew his face close to hers yet again. So close, his lips touched the red skin on her left cheek as he spoke his next words with barely controlled animosity. “You’re gonna be available to me twenty-four/seven, is that clear? You're gonna kiss me good morning, kiss me goodbye, greet me with a kiss and dinner when I come home, and kiss me goodnight. If I so much as see an ounce of disgust or unwillingness in your eyes, you’re gonna get it and you’re gonna get it hard. And this time, I won't nurse you back to health. I will leave you on the floor to rot and just as you’re about to slip away into oblivion, I’m gonna have a demon possess you. Because when a demon possesses you, they keep your body together no matter how big the injuries until they leave and I’ll make sure you’ll be conscious but unable to do anything at all. I might even make you pay your family a little murderous visit.” 

Pure horror slithered down her spine as the tears streaked noiselessly down her cheek and her mouth open in a silent scream of terror. The coldness from the fear reached all the way through to her bone marrow. 

His hand traveled from her throat up to grab her jaw again, so he could turn her head to face him. “Do… you… get… that?” He spoke the words slowly, clearly emphasizing every syllable as if she was retarded and deaf. 

Natasha could nothing but nod, or she couldn’t as his grip didn’t allow her, but he felt her motion. 

“Good.” A shadow of a smile dawned on his lips, but only for a short second. He placed a peck on her lips before his features hardened again. 

“And now you’re gonna make me some dinner because I’m tired of your shenanigans. Do you think you can handle a hot oven without injuring yourself or me? Or try anything funny at all?” His voice was saturated with ornery, and an ice-cold fire burned deep within his eyes that flickered black now and then from his rage. Whatever ounce of sympathy he might have had for her while she was sick was burned away by his fierce anger.

“Y-yes.” She stammered so low it was barely a whisper. 

“Good.” He let out in a tone that clearly let her know this conversation was over. His hand let her go and he turned away from her. A whoosh of air left her lungs, not exactly in relief. 

Barely had it been a second before Dean skidded to a halt. “Oh, one last thing,” He said almost casually, though the next second, his hand closed around her throat, pinning her against the wall once again. “I own you.” He whispered against her lips, she was too terrified to make even the smallest movement. She was frozen completely in her place, unable to look away from him with her tear-filled eyes. 

“Yeah, that’s right. You _belong_ to me. And you should make it your life’s mission to please me, to put me and my needs before yourself. Otherwise, I might dust off that shock collar and find you a bowl of dog food so you can know your place. Which is beneath me.” He ended his monolog with a light tap on her already hurting cheek and turned his back towards her. 

“Pizza’s in the fridge. Just heat it in the oven.” He barked out his order as he headed to the couch, but before he sat down, he added, “Perdita,” with narrowed eyes. 

His, otherwise harmless comment made her flinch. It took a few seconds before she could break free of her rooted place against the wall and then hastened towards the kitchen. After setting the oven to the right temperature, she found the pizzas in the fridge and placed them on the kitchen counter along with two plates. 

While she waited for the oven to heat up, her index finger tapped restlessly on the countertop and her teeth chewed mercilessly on her lower lip. Dean’s threat echoed in her mind like a ghost haunting her. 

_I will leave you on the floor to rot and just as you’re about to slip away into oblivion, I’m gonna have a demon possess you. I might even make you pay your family a little murderous visit._

She didn’t doubt for a second that he wouldn’t follow through with his threat. He didn’t only threaten her, now he also threatened her family. She swallowed thickly to keep the bile down. Just the thought of having a demon possess her nearly made her gag, but then she thought about the fact that she already had something part-demon inside of her, and the tears rose in her eyes again as she looked down on her stomach. Someplace deep within her, she hoped that it resembled nothing like him, but if it didn’t, it would become a terrorist just by the environment it was raised. There was no win unless she miscarried. And for every day, the possibility of that happening shrunk. 

She wiped her cheeks and tried to think of something else. “Do-do you want something to drink?” She stammered from the kitchen. 

“Beer. Top shelf.” He snapped back from the couch where he was watching _Game of Thrones._

Natasha found a glass and a beer from the top shelf in the fridge, poured it, and served it to him on the couch, where he rewarded her with a tersely, “Thanks.”

After the oven had heated, and she had put in the pizzas, she was again left to her thoughts as she waited for them to be done. Before there had always been this little sprout of hope of escaping. Now, he had taken every precaution against it. With an advanced alarm system like this, how was she ever supposed to get away from this hell? She was ready to sink into a deep dark hole of depression, but a small almost insignificant part of her hoped that someday she would be in luck. Maybe… maybe she should just surrender. Just for a bit. Though her true nature fought against the mere idea of that. But maybe just for a bit. It was exhausting to fight every second of every day. Almost as a sign, a cough rippled through her, so strong she had to seek support on the countertop.

As the pizzas where done, she served it to him as if she was his servant, which she in many aspects were. 

“C-can I please have some pickles?” She asked in a low voice after sitting down next to him. 

“Go fetch them yourself.” He made a gesture with his hand indicating she was a dog about to fetch a ball. 

“Thank you.” She whispered as she tried with everything in her to seem as submissive as possible in hopes of keeping him satisfied. 

 

That night, she willingly kissed him goodnight before bed. 

 

**One month later.**

 

It had taken some time to get the last remaining coughing from pneumonia to subside even after Dean had given her the last of the shots. Physically, she was healed. Mentally, she had locked herself away. She wasn’t anything other than a shell, but it kept Dean… tolerable. Actually, more than tolerable. He kissed her. Sometimes just a peck, other times he made her make out with him. But it stayed at that… innocent level. She couldn’t explain why he granted her leniency, but sometimes she thought she saw something in his eyes she couldn’t explain. He would excuse it away with saying she had been so obedient, or he was tired, or she was fat and ugly, or stank or in other ways made him lose interest. A part of her didn’t believe him. But she couldn’t explain it either. She just hoped she wouldn’t run out of ‘luck’ anytime soon. 

There was still locks on half of the kitchen, but now she was allowed to get the key to open one, take what she needed, and return it to Dean, who usually was stationed on the couch. 

Two weeks ago, he had started working again. She was allowed to be chained to the couch while he was away as he didn’t work fulltime, to begin with. Today, he had worked fulltime and she had been allowed to walk freely around the house with the threat of two demons being less than 30 seconds away if the alarm sounded. Before he left, he had instructed her in what he wanted to eat for dinner and when it should be ready. He had even bought a couple of cookbooks for her. Her culinary skills were well developed but not as good as Deans. 

Five minutes before he arrived, she had everything ready. He was pleased with her, which meant she only had to tolerate a kiss when he walked in. 

 

“I got you something today,” Dean whispered in her ear and made her jolt. She hadn't heard him before he said anything as she was washing the pan in the kitchen sink. 

“R-really?” She answered nervously, hoping it was the appropriate response to his statement. A part of her dreaded the servant-role he had minimized her to where she walked around on eggshells every minute of every day. But compared to the beginning of her imprisonment, she hoped to keep this up as long as possible. Even if that meant that every day, a little piece of her died. 

“I think you’re stable enough to handle one of these.” He said whimsically as he presented her with a razor and shaving cream. 

Natasha’s frowned as she tried to figure out what he wanted her to do with it. It didn’t take many seconds, though a part of her hoped she was wrong. “Um, thank you.” She instantly said out of habit, but also to buy some time. Unobtrusively, she continued washing the pan and then tactically had to step away from Dean to get the dishtowel. 

“You know what I want with that, right?” He asked astutely as he casually leaned against the kitchen table and crossed his arms. His head was slightly tilted back with a cockily gleam in his eyes. 

“You… want me to… shave you?” Natasha dragged out her question to seem genuinely ignorant as she had the deepest fake frown. 

Dean slowly but confidently strolled closer to her. Gently, he grabbed onto her jaw. “You’re almost adorable when you’re a stupid bitch, Perdita. But that’s not exactly my thought.” A mischievous smirk crossed his lips. He placed a quick peck on her lips before the smile completely unfolded. 

She hated when he called her that name. She wasn’t a Dalmatian. Though it wasn’t so often anymore. 

“I want everything shaved.” He stated. His tone held a small edge of derision, though his smile didn’t fade, it rendered his eyes cold. Before she could answer, he continued, “ _Everything._ Armpits. Your legs both above and below your knee. Also your little cunt and especially your ass.” The triumph and taunt gleamed in his eyes as Natasha’s breath stilled.


	25. Indecisive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Years everyone *bang - crackle crackle fireworks!*  
> Don't forget the LNE giveaway on my FB, ending the 5th February. You can enter 100% anonymously :-D   
> Link [here](https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=549335612083185&id=429847084032039&hc_location=ufi)  
> 

“R-right now?” Natasha asked warily. Her eyes unconsciously averted his, but now and then flickered towards his to try to read his expression. Dean did nothing but raise an eyebrow at her. “But I showered earlier.” She vaguely explained. Hoping it would at least buy her some time. 

“Tomorrow then, before I get home.” He commented snarkily before leaving her alone. A sigh of relief left her, but soon a somber tingling started to envelop her. The more she thought about it, the more she felt like she was on a slippery slope heading towards the preparation of some dark rite. 

For over a month, she had kept up appearances and avoided the most ghastly things of her imprisonment. If she did this, she was practically inviting him in. She had no intentions to do so. All she knew was that he was definitely preparing her for something. 

During the night, she contemplated her options. Her mind was so occupied with it, that when Dean pulled her down to spoon on the couch, she barely bothered to notice his irritating teasing of her. The more she pondered, the more hopeless it seemed, and the hollow of her cheek was almost skinless from incessantly biting it. 

 

The next day, she sat and stared at the razor and shaving cream for almost half an hour. Dean had left for work in the morning, and left her to freely wander the house. Dinner was supposed to be on the table at five that afternoon. It was three now. She couldn’t postpone it any longer now. With a heavy sigh, she undressed and stepped into the shower. At some point, she had convinced herself that being able to shave would be nice. The hairs under her armpits bothered her slightly. 

To prolong the dreaded, she shampooed and conditioned her hair and washed her body. For ten minutes, she just stood under the hot water, trying to justify not doing it. There was no saying of what he would do if she didn’t comply. Would he… do it anyway? Would he punish her? Beat her? She didn’t know. In the end, she turned off the water, sat down, and covered her right leg in the soft foam. Putting the razor to her skin just above her ankle, she stopped before it had barely cut an inch. Intently staring at the razor, she realized she couldn’t do it. She just couldn’t. 

Before any part of her could convince her that she was doing the wrong thing, that terrible things would happen if she didn’t, she washed off the foam and jumped out of the shower. 

Many things could she live with, tolerate, but she couldn’t offer herself to him like this without any struggle. The more minutes that passed after her decision to not accommodate his demand, the more staunch and steely her will became. He would have to force her every step of the way on this. There was no way she could live with herself if she surrendered that much to him. 

With a towel wrapped around her hair, she wiped the mist off the mirror and looked at herself. She had gained most of the weight she had lost when she was sick. Nausea and puking had taken it down a notch, so that helped too. The small bulge on her stomach had softer lines now than when she had been thinner. Now and then, she allowed herself to put a hand on her bump with closed eyes. Trying to feel it. Trying to determine if it was normal or part-demon. As usual, she couldn’t. Most of the time, she did everything to forget that there was something inside of her. Otherwise, she would lose her mind into hopeless speculation. 

She peeked out from the bathroom to look at the clock. If dinner should be ready in time, she had to start now. In the bedroom, she found a worn pair of leggings and a blue flannel. The weather was colder now, and it was too chilly to wear only a top. 

While she prepared and made the lasagna, she was able to forget her act of defiance all the way, up until she heard the lock in the front door click. A continuous beeping sounded from the alarm until he had disarmed the system. Another, longer beep indicating it was engaged again. Her back and forehead broke into a cold sweat and an uneasiness crawled up on her. The best was to focus completely on the dinner. She set the last of the table, checked on the lasagna, and very slowly took it out. Right as she sat it on the stove, so she could close the oven, Dean strolled up behind her. 

“Hi,” He casually greeted. By habit, Natasha turned her head to let him place the mandatory peck on her lips, but she didn’t greet him back in any other way and turned her back to him as she carried the hot lasagna to the dinner table. 

“I got you more pickles.” He let her know.

“Thank you.” She replied flatly. The uneasiness grew, as he didn’t make any move to sit down yet. He kept standing in the kitchen where he had kissed her. Unsure what to do, she just sat down, cut a piece, and put it on his plate before taking one herself. 

“Well, depends if you’d been a good girl.” A sly tone marred his voice as he took a few steps forward, slowly bringing him towards the table. 

Natasha kept quiet and didn’t touch her food. Her eyes shifted between him and the table. A conning shine gleamed at the back of his eyes and an impish smirk crossed his lips. He sauntered closer to her, and she felt clammy moisture breaking out on her back and forehead. His steps finally brought him to her and he placed himself behind her chair, where she now sat ramrod straight. Carefully, he let his hands run over her shoulder to her neck, where he at the same time, removed her hair to her back. 

“Have you been a good girl?” He lured wilily as his hand skimmed over her collarbone at the opening of the flannel. With a loud gulp, Natasha nodded. 

“You sure?” He enticed almost playfully. Again, Natasha nodded. With a lightness, his left hand trailed down her body, barely touching her until he reached her waist. The right still laid on her shoulder, feeling very heavy to her. Deftly, his hand snuck under the flannel where his fingertips grazed the skin on her stomach. Her heart jumped into her throat, threatening to breach through her body as her breathing increased, steadily nearing hyperventilation. There was nothing she could do. If she denied him access, the consequences could be even worse. 

As his fingers slowly sneaked under the hem of her leggings and panties, Natasha squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her lips together to deaden the whimper building in her throat. 

A disappointed sigh was her only warning before he withdrew his hand, stepped to the side simultaneously as his hand grabbed onto her shoulder, and threw her and the chair backward. A fearful screamed jumped from her lips. As her back impacted with the floor, the hard wood from the backrest of the chair as the only cushion, the wind got knocked out of her. Before she was able to catch her breath, Dean kneeled over her, grabbing onto her jaw so hard, her lips puckered. The fury darkened his expression and the ever-growing fear spiked through her system in full-bore. 

“Get your ass out there and do as you’re told.” He hissed with a dangerous note in his tone through his clenched teeth. “Or are you too fucking stupid to follow simple instructions?” The first comment had used up all his restraint and he now yelled in her face. “Get your ass out there!” His hand only let her jaw go, so he could grab a fistful of hair and throw her in the direction of the bathroom. 

Natasha landed on her stomach and again, the wind was knocked out of her, but as soon as she heard him moving, she started crawling. With a smack, his right hand landed on her ass and made a shriek puncture the air. 

“Get out there!” Another smack to her ass that fleetingly stopped her crawling. “Now!” A third slap was delivered to her ass and tears rose to her eyes as she screamed in pain and fear. She reached the door, pushed it up, and sought refuge in the bathroom. Dean let her slam the door behind her. Shocked, she leaned against the closed bathroom door, desperately trying to catch her breath as a few tears stained her cheeks. 

“If I have to shave you myself I’ll peel the outer layer of your skin off!” He thundered from the other side of the door, making her flinch with a squeak. 

“Got it?” He yelled ferociously as his fist hit the door, causing it to rattle on its hinges. 

“Yes! Yes!” She terrified yelled back as she crouched and covered her ears. A snort sounded on the other side of the door and then his footsteps led away from the bathroom. Natasha sat there with trembling breath and shaking hands as she tried to recover from what had just happened. In some way, it hadn't been that bad. She tried to console herself with that fact. Quaveringly, she got to her feet, quickly undressed, and stepped into the shower for the second time that day. Her hair was now long enough to tie it in a knot without a hairband as it hadn't been cut in months and had grown several inches. Lifting the showerhead from its handle, she only wetted her body. 

She had just taken the shaving cream into her hand when Dean barged through the door. 

“I’m doing it! I’m doing it!” She yelled panickily, dropped the metal container with a clatter, and crept into the corner of the shower, almost slipping in the process. 

“Just making sure you do it.” He fumed. The fury he had shown just minutes earlier was reined in, to her relief. As soon as he came through the door, she, in a split second, had seen him rip the shower curtain aside and abuse her in some way. 

With a nod, she tried to steady her breathing before she picked the bottle with shaving cream up from the floor. Her hands still shook as she poured it into her hand and applied it to her armpits. Her forehead creased in confusion when she heard the water running from the sink tap. Though, she quickly went on with shaving. After that, she proceeded to her legs, but this time, she kept standing and just bent down to shave. Even though it hurt her bruised back, and she had to stifle several pained groans and snivels. Her back ached and her rear burned from the stinging spanks. As her hands still shook, she nicked herself a few times. 

“How far are you?” Dean snapped demandingly from the other side of the shower curtain. 

His voice made her jump and drop the razor. “J-just finished shaving my legs.” Natasha stammered timidly. 

“Come out here.” An exasperated note was rising in his voice. 

“B-but I-I’m not done,” She couldn’t help but stutter. Fear has pulsed through her system since he threw her to the floor. 

“Out!” Dean barked loudly, which made her jump again. She swallowed thickly, suppressed the sob building in her throat, and pulled the curtain aside. To the best of her efforts, she hid her body behind her arms and hands. 

When she hesitated, Dean beckoned her to step forward with his hand. only a couple of seconds had passed of her rooted in the place, too afraid to step forward before she saw the impatience unfold in his dark eyes, making her approach him with uncertain steps. As she reached him, he grabbed onto her shoulders, more gently than she had expected, and turned her around so she stood with her back towards him. The mirror was misty, but she could still make out of shape of him behind her. 

This was it. She was sure of it. He couldn’t wait until she had shaved. He wanted her now instead. Her entire body started shaking uncontrollably. 

“Plea–” She had barely opened her mouth with her pathetic plead before he latched onto a chunk of her hair and forced her head into the sink that, without her detecting it had been filled to the brink with water. 

Natasha’s arms and legs floundered as she struggled to get her head out of the water. Her hands tried pushing against the edge of the sink, but it was no use. One of her hands found his that was holding her down and tried to remove it, but he was too strong. Soon, she scratched him in a hopeless attempt to get him to stop as her body twitched. 

At the last second, where she thought she couldn’t go any longer without air, he pulled her head back so violently, it slammed against his shoulder. Immediately, she heaved in a deep, whining breath and continued in a strained panting. 

“When I ask you to do something, you fucking do it!” He growled and then forced her underwater again. 

She hadn't gotten her oxygen levels completely up before she again struggled with all her power to free herself from him, and soon her body was again twitching and jerking while she uselessly screamed, but it didn’t help in her submerged state. 

“Do you get that?” He yelled as he ripped her head back against his shoulder again. After drawing in a breath as deep as the Mariana trench, she started sobbing over the shock and fright, rendering her unable of answering him. 

His free hand grabbed onto her jaw, turning her head, so he could yell directly into her ear, “Do you get that?” 

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” She screamed in terror in between her panting breath and sobs. 

“Now get done, bitch!” He sneered and pushed her back into the shower. Her hands braced against the wall at the last second, preventing her head from hammering into it. A loud bang let her know Dean had left and slammed the door behind him, so she in peace could sink to the floor and sob undisturbed. 

Her sense of time vanished as she tried to calm herself after the shock and fight for her life. This violent evil side of him that had stayed somewhat dormant when she had been sick had fully surfaced again. It might have taken a month but he was back in full vigor. And that scared her. What he would do to her when she came out of here scared her. What he would do if she was too slow sacred her, so she assembled herself and eventually, her sobbing quieted down to a silent stream of tears that blended with the running water from the showerhead. Slowly and mechanically, she shaved the rest that Dean had demanded. 

Ultimately, she had to step out of the shower though she feared what awaited her. After drying herself, she found that Dean had taken all her clothes with him when he left expect the black lace panties. “Fuck,” She mimed in despair and defeat. Her path from here on was crystal clear. 

It was limited how long she could postpone the inevitable, but she stretched her luck as far as she could, taking as long as she could in the bathroom. Putting on the panties, she wrapped the towel tightly around her body. The last look she got of herself in the mirror was a miserable one. Her eyes that were still red and swollen, was filled with defeat, her head hung low, and her shoulders slumped. 

She flinched when the door creaked slightly as she opened it, revealing her. “Come here,” Dean ordered from the kitchen before she had barely taken a step. Less angry than she had expected. 

Swallowing thickly, she made her way to the kitchen where she found Dean cleaning up from the dinner. A dinner she hadn't got, but he clearly had. What was left was put in the fridge. Maybe she would be allowed to get something to eat later. After… whatever he had planned, she thought gloomily. 

As he heard her enter the kitchen, he gestured with his hand for her to come forward without looking away from the sink where he was finishing up cleaning the dish that had contained the lasagna. Slowly, she sidled closer, while anxiousness got a deeper hold on her. Dean didn’t turn around to face her before she stood right beside him as if he was testing her obedience. When he finally turned around, his eyes only fleetingly met hers before they dragged down her body. The longer his eyes went, the more disapproving he looked. With a flounce, he had stripped her of the towel, leaving her only in her panties and the towel too far away on the floor to reach. Her hands flew up to try to cover her exposed body, but at the next second, she turned her palms toward him in a silent plea for him not to harm her as he made his way closer to her as a predator cornering its prey. 

Natasha backed up until she felt the cold wall against her bruised back. The last step brought Dean as close to her as he could get without their bodies touching, and she had to press her lips together to repress the scared whine building in her. 

His hand trailed lightly over her cheek as he nuzzled his nose against hers. “Is your ass sore from the spanking I gave you?” 

Her breath hitched at the contact. “A-a little, yeah,” She nodded but didn’t want to move too much when he was this close. In response, he gave a small appreciative moan and captured his lower lip between his teeth. 

Natasha felt cold into the bone, or actually, it was like the coldness came from inside her and worked its way through her body, leaving her a rattling mess. She pressed her body as hard against the cold surface as possible, hoping she would fall through it and away from him. 

With a lowered gaze, Dean let the tips of his fingers tickle over her soft smooth skin on her side just below her hipbone. At the next second, she let out a loud gasp as he took her by surprise by remodeling her stance around his body. Hooked a hand under her left knee and lifted it up around his waist. Her right wrist was guided over his shoulder. It went too fast for her to resist, and when she was in place, she was too afraid to try to break free from him. 

Dean craned his neck as his gaze followed his right hand trailing up and down her left thigh, inching closer and closer to her ass until he worked his fingers under the lace and run a finger up between her butt cheeks, over her hole, making her stiffen completely. “Oh,” He moaned as he felt her silk-like skin. A small shiver worked its way through him, and with a grunt, he pinned her body to the wall with his.

A quiet whimper left her as she squeezed her eyes shut when she felt that insidious fear creep back into her veins at the display of dominance. 

“This is gonna be so good, baby.” He whispered hungrily against her lips. His breathing was almost ragged, and his body shook lightly with anticipation at this point. Dragging out the sweetest satisfaction it would cause him. Seeing her nailed to her place in fear made the lust spark through his blood. 

His free hand grabbed onto her jaw and turned her head, so he was able to lick the small tear that escaped her lashes off her skin. The lick ended in a kiss at her cheekbone before he ripped her head back and attacked her lips. A hard thrust with his clothed erection tore her lips apart in a pained whine. His tongue seized the opportunity and invaded her mouth at the same time she withdrew her hand from his neck, put both her hands on his chest, and pushed, but he was too strong for her. Trying to put her left leg down was no use either as his fingers dug into the skin of her ass. The grip he still had on her jaw didn’t allow her to move her head. 

Without warning, he detached his fingers from her ass and plunged his hand down into her panties. “So smooth,” He nearly grunted as his aggressiveness became more evident. Now, Natasha was able to put her leg down, but she couldn’t press her legs together hard enough to deny him access. His fingers kept prodding in her panties, teasing her, but never fully pushing into her. 

_Why are you dragging this out? Just get it over with, please._ Though that was her thoughts, she resisted by instinct. 

Dean withdrew his hand from her jaw and her panties only to let them wander all over her. The fingers that had been in her panties found their way to her mouth where they were pressed to the back of her throat. He grabbed her ass cheeks and breasts in turn so hard she thought they would bruise. All while the bulge in his jeans ground against her and hurt her through the thin fabric of her panties. 

The struggle between them went on; Dean seemed to want to enjoy every inch of her before he even thought of getting it over with. Natasha fought to keep him at bay, though she didn’t try to escape completely, she simply resisted his invasion of her personal space, but not her position. 

That was until he’d had enough. 

Her evading lips irritated him. She was supposed to be available twenty-four/seven, and she had already challenged him today with the shaving. His right hand latched onto her jaw, keeping her in place, and pulled an inch back, just enough to look into her eyes. “You are gonna kiss me! Passionately! And if you satisfy me, I might leave that tight ass alone.” His voice rose to a scathing tone while his teeth ground together as he tried to restrain himself enough to get his message through. “Though it must be _so_ tight now after the break it had. Mmm, I can only imagine what it’ll feel like,” A shudder coursed visible through him. 

“Why are you doing this to me?” She let out in a broken, tearful voice. This was inevitable, she knew that, but she couldn’t help but ask. For so long she hadn't been victimized this way, and she hated that this form of abuse was on the table again. To her own surprise, her eyes didn’t waver from his. “Why? What did I ever do to you?” She hesitantly continued when she saw him pause, though he scrutinized her with eyes narrowed to dark slits. Her already small, feeble voice broke halfway through the sentence.

She saw how his jaw tightened and heard his teeth gritted together as his upper lip raised ever so slightly in contempt. It was like looking at a kettle on a stove; it had started rattling, soon it would whistle as it boiled, and his temper was about to boil. Natasha had already mentally braced for the hit or the choking, or spanking, or whatever he might do to her for her opposing comment to his demand. 

For a few seconds, he kept staring at her. She watched as his lips went taut and he raised his hand, ready to slap her. But it kept hanging in the air until he snorted loudly and let it lock around her throat, straining her breathing significantly, but not closing it off completely. Shortly after, her brow furrowed at his apparent dither. As the seconds passed by, she saw his rage unfold, then how he fought to control whatever that was about to break through. “You little…” He trailed off in something that, at first thought, almost sounded like… indignation. His jeans rubbed against her as he drew his face an inch closer to hers. All while his green eyes held hers captive. She couldn’t look away even if she wanted. She was strangely drawn to what she was seeing. Never had she seen him like that, and she didn’t know what to expect. Maybe she was a deer caught in the headlights on a dark night, just waiting to be hit hard and ruthlessly, and ultimately let all hell break loose. The fear still made her bones rattle and the room felt like it was close to freezing to her exposed body. Several times, she thought he was about to hit her or throw her to the floor. He made small twitches of movements, opened his mouth only to close it again, and during the process, his face heated almost to a wine red color. 

Out of her control, her lower lip quivered and she felt hot tears slowly pickling and rising in her eyes, as she couldn’t take the anxious anticipation anymore. Unsure if she was imagining things or not, she, through her sight blurred by tears, saw a hint of his resolve dwindling until it was nearly indecisive. In a turn of a dime, his expression darkened and he shook with pent-up anger and a hint of resentment. “Get out!” He nearly screamed in her face before throwing her to the ground. The force was so great, she tumbled to the floor with a stunned yelp and rolled over herself one and a half times. Confused, she looked back up at him. 

“Get out of my sight! And don’t even think of looking at me again before I give you permission to do so! Move your ass, bitch!” Dean yelled with a hysterical note in his voice and a vivid spark in his eyes that flickered black out of his control. 

For the second time that day, she found herself crawling away from him, but she wasn’t fast enough in his opinion. “I said get out of my sight!” He yelled furiously and delivered a kick to her ribcage that made air elude her lungs, and she fell to her back. 

“Stop! I’m going! Stop! Please, stop! I’m going, all right! I’m going!” She breathlessly whined back as loud as her lungs allowed her while she tried to skedaddle as fast as possible into the nearest escape; the bedroom. 

Dean threw a string of expletives her way before she was far enough to pull herself quickly into the bedroom by the doorframe and shut the door. With a heart thrumming so powerfully it was on its way out of her chest and an erratic breathing, she scuttled to the far corner of the room. On the way, she grabbed one of the duvets and huddled together with it wrapped tightly around her body. 

_What the hell had just happened?_ She thought frightened and confused to herself as she wiped the continuous stream of tears from her cheeks.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worked a few days on this chapter. Hope you enjoy it :-D Let me know what you think :-D  
> Don't forget the LNE giveaway on my FB, ending the 5th February. You can enter 100% anonymously :-D  
> Link [here](https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=549335612083185&id=429847084032039&hc_location=ufi)  
> 

Finally, Natasha was able to calm her wildly galloping heart and hectic breathing. Her cheeks were still damp, but no more tears wetted them. Some time had passed, and she wasn’t exactly sure how much. Her mind was still a haze of confusion and fright, which she desperately tried to find head and tails in. Now, it had been so long that the danger of him rethinking his decision and coming in here was small enough for her to not be rattling into the bone with fear. 

Taking one more steadying breath, she slowly went through the events since Dean came home. Thought it didn’t help on her frayed nerves, she went through it again in her head when she didn’t figure anything out from the first time playing it through her mind. It wasn’t until the fourth time she realized that the rage in his voice when he yelled for her to get out of his sight might have been directed internally. Why else would he be that furious without taking it out on her? He didn’t hesitate to take his anger out on her when she was the one angering him. He also took it out on her when something else angered him. She was the bullseye for everything that annoyed him or pissed him off. 

So, the question was, why not this time? This time, she had been the cause of his agitation. But she had not been the aim. 

Was he… becoming soft? Was he starting to develop a weak spot for her? 

She played the scene in her head again, and again, and again. His reaction, his expression was burned into her mind as it had perplexed her and fascinated her. Something was happening to her advance. That much she knew. Otherwise, why could she have escaped the impending danger of being raped?

The more she focused on the smaller details of her memory, the surer she was becoming. It might not be a ‘weak spot’ per se, but there was clearly something for her in him. And it all had root in her being sick. It could be pity, or her being so weak could have sparked some kind of conscience or sympathy in him. Something that didn’t seem to go away as she recovered. 

Her heart rate increased and her breath hitched as she realized her possible potential of power. It was nearly invigorating. 

Again, she had to calm herself. She had to cool down and think it smart. Be smarter in the long run. She had to be a wit vixen to his ingenious and inventive canniness. If she could do that, maybe she would indeed find a way out of this. It might take time, but it didn’t matter if it meant complete freedom and not temporary. 

After thinking about it for a long time, she hadn't come up with a specific plan, and nothing suggested that she would. She didn’t know the extent and limitations. She had to explore them carefully. 

The adrenaline rush, the overly speculations only disrupted by her revitalizing discovery, had made her tired. When she took a look at the clock, it was no wonder. She had been sitting there in the corner of the bedroom for hours. 

Warily, she looked at the bed. Somehow, she didn’t feel completely comfortable with going to sleep there. As if she would be too exposed. 

A few moments of hesitation and she took the pillow and put it in the bottom of the closet where she laid down. Because of the bruises on her back and left side, she had to lie on her right. The wood bottom was cold though she had regained her warmth from earlier, but she quickly and noiselessly slipped a flannel from one of the hangers and put it on. Though she couldn’t lie stretched out, it didn’t take many minutes before she fell asleep here in the mostly safe confined space. 

 

“What the hell are you doing in there?” Dean’s brusque voice tore her out of her sleep. Squinting up at him, she realized there wasn’t as much anger in his features as she had first expected from his tone, but he still looked irritated. Behind him, she caught a glimpse of the dawn in the single window where the blackout curtains were open. 

With flickering eyes, as she didn’t know if she was allowed to look at him again, she was unsure what to answer. Every time her eyes flickered back to his, the impatience slowly unfolded in his eyes, and she quickly decided to go with honesty. “Hiding.” Her voice was shriller than she had expected. 

“From what?” He inquired bitingly sarcastic with a raised eyebrow as if it was the stupidest thing he had heard from her as his expression said more along the lines of, ‘you got to be kidding me.’

“You,” It was barely a whisper she could hear herself, so she cleared her throat and spoke more clearly, “you,” afraid, that she would annoy him further with her unclear answer. 

A displeased scoff came from Dean before he turned around and commanded, “Get your ass out of there,” on his way out of the bedroom. 

Natasha quickly found a pair of leggings before following him into the living room. On the dinner table stood two bowls already, the four pills she took every morning, and he put the cereal and milk on the table just as she neared it. Setting the table, actually any household related chores where usually on her plate as it was now, so this behavior puzzled her. Why hadn't he woken her before so she could do it, as he had done for the last month? 

Cautiously, she neared the table and sat down. Patiently waited until he had poured his portion and then waited a few extra seconds before reaching out for it. To her surprise, he didn’t intervene as she poured her own portion and started to eat. 

While she chewed her cereal slowly, she tried to decipher his expression, but let her eyes drop as soon as he caught her. It was almost impossible to read anything from his face. It looked as it had always looked; slightly bored with a hint arrogance, but also unfazed. Perhaps she wanted to find something that really wasn’t there. Maybe she had imagined things. But as she closed her eyes, she saw how his resolve had dwindled last night into indecisiveness. That wasn’t imaginary. That she had dodged a huge bullet – no, dodged a machine gun, wasn’t imaginary. One thing nagged her. Maybe it was a one-time event, and her mood dropped several degrees. 

“What type of books do you read?” Dean asked halfway through their breakfast. 

“Uh…” She started, completely unprepared for the question. He had looked at his phone when he asked and not her, but now he shot her an impatient glare, as she didn’t answer immediately. “Um, crime novels.” 

“Thank god, I thought you were into that Fifty Shades of Crap.” He let out another scoff, but it was lighter than the one he had uttered earlier. 

“Why?” She dared to ask with a furrowed brow. 

“Isn’t all women?” The question was clearly rhetorical. “So, crime novels. Any authors in particular?” He asked, again, he didn’t look at her when he spoke to her. Either he was busy with his phone or he just pretended to be so he could avoid rewarding her with too much attention. 

“The-the Scandinavian ones are usually the best.” She answered with a frown, unsure what he wanted from the conversation. It wasn’t like him to small talk like that. As he shot her another glare with a raised eyebrow, she knew he wanted a more specific answer. Just as when he would ask what she had done while he had been to work. Answers as ‘cleaned’ and ‘cooked’ wasn’t enough, he always wanted her to elaborate as if she was responsible for reporting every minor thing to him like a superior officer. 

“Uh, Camilla Lackberg, Jo Nesbø, Stieg Larsson, Jussi Adler-Olsen, j-just to name a few.”

“Okay.” He said disinterestedly with a shrug. Though there was something in his tone that let her know the conversation was over. It was the slightly harder edge he ended his words with, almost too abrupt, but when he did it, she knew it was time to shut up. 

Dean finished his breakfast before her and just left the table, leaving the dishes to her. That was normal, and that little piece of normal calmed Natasha in a way she couldn’t explain. A little structure in the everyday life made it predictable, and she preferred Dean predictable in his behavior and not mercurial. 

As Dean went to the bathroom, taking his phone and keys with him and locked the door as he always did after the alarm system had been set up. Leaving her to eat the rest of her breakfast and clean up in peace, which suited her just fine. 

 

“I’m leaving,” Dean announced from the door, which was her cue to come and give him the mandatory goodbye kiss. If she had to choose, goodbye kisses were her favorite because that meant several Dean-free hours. 

“Wait,” He grabbed onto her wrist as she turned around after the peck on his lips. His grip wasn’t hurting her, but ice ran cold in her veins. Slowly and cautiously, she turned to face him. 

“Take it off.” He let go of her wrist and hooked a finger in the opening of the flannel shirt she was wearing. 

A deep frown creased her forehead as she unbuttoned it. He was already wearing his jacket and boots, so what was this about? When she held the flannel in her hands in front of her body to inconspicuously cover as much of her as possible, Dean turned her back to him by her shoulders. His fingers grazed so lightly down her back, it tickled and gave her goosebumps. Then he turned her left side to him and did the same on her ribcage. At the corner of her eye, she saw him scrutinize her with a creased brow. 

“Cabinet behind the mirror is an aloe vera lotion. Put that on.” He said in a stern voice as he gave her a light push that made her take a step away from him. Before she could say or do anything, he had turned around, disarmed the alarm system, and left with one last comment, “Have dinner ready at six.” A small beep indicated he had activated the system again from the outside from his phone. 

His… she didn’t know what to call it… concern puzzled her, but she did as she was told. The cold lotion relieved the soreness. 

 

The beep from the alarm made sweat break out on her forehead. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It’s ready in ten minutes. I fell asleep on the couch.” She panicky burst out as she heard him walk through the door. Her lack of sleep had caught up with her when she had laid down to read. 

How could she have been that stupid? She was pushing her luck after his fit of rage last night. Now was definitely not the time to push his impatience. Stirring the sauce hectically nearly made her arm cramp, while she with the left flipped the steaks, praying they would be done soon. 

The sound of his steps came closer, making her close her eyes in fear of an attack, either physically or mentally. 

A loud bang made her jump and spilled a few drops of sauce on the stove, giving off a sizzling sound. But with the bang followed no pain, and she dared to look to her left where he stood. 

“For you.” He snapped tersely, only to turn around and lounge himself on the couch. Next to her was a stack of books. They were the cause of the bang, as he had dropped them on the table. There were at least six books, all from the authors she had mentioned this morning. Shooting a puzzled gaze over her shoulder at him, she continued with the dinner, more calmly than before. 

 

 **4 months later.**

 

She continued to see a gentler side of Dean as when she had been sick. Every day until her bruises were gone he checked them daily. Sometimes, he even put the lotion on for her. But slowly as days became weeks, his gentleness crumbled and he went back to a more menacing self, but not like before she was sick. Though it took three weeks before he touched her more than kisses. But not in the way you would think. He didn’t rape her. Not all the way. He teased her, made her make out with him, felt her up, fingered her, everything actually but penetration.

Some days, he was in a certain mood where she wasn’t allowed to look at him, exactly like that night where he had screamed that she should get out of his sight. It never went on long enough for her to be in real trouble. She only received a few scolding comments. He, apparently, didn’t feel the need to assert his dominance on a larger scale as he didn’t let her know when it was okay to look at him again, he just stopped scolding her for looking, so it quietly flowed away like water under the bridge, but it was never more than a day or two. Those days also meant no physical contact besides the mandatory kisses. The other days, she wasn’t that lucky. If she shot him a wrong look or made a comment that sparked his anger, he would toy even more with her. Almost making up for those days where he didn’t at all. He would lie on top of her or press her up against the wall and rub against her as good as he could with her increasingly growing belly, squeezed and played with her breast, especially when they were sore as if he got some sick joy out of her discomfort. Sometimes, he would force his thigh between her legs and rub her that way. But on some level, it was okay because it stayed with that, but she didn’t want to encourage him, so she engaged as little as possible in those make-out sessions. Only enough to keep him pleased. Pleasing him meant life was easier and safer for her. And even though it didn’t actually come to any penetration, she never really felt safe. Because she could see it in his eyes, see that she was only a second away from being violated. There was a dark spark constantly lingering in his eyes. It had been subdued in the beginning, meaning she had to look deep into his eyes to see the impending danger, but as he came home later and later, drunker and drunker in the past few weeks, it grew until it was the only thing left in his eyes and it could burst at any given moment. 

It was just last night she had seen those eyes. 

 

It started as usual. He came barging in, which woke her for sure every time. In the doorway to the bedroom, he paused and leaned against the doorframe with a mischievous smile and an ornery gleam in his eyes. 

“Missed me?” He shortly bit his lower lip though he quickly released it from his teeth again. “So, what did you do all day besides lying there and being completely useless?” There was no trace of the mischievous smile. It was replaced by a baleful distorted sneer of a smile. 

“You are so useless sometimes. You know that?” He continued as he snaked closer to the bed as if he was a predator poised to attack its prey. 

Natasha remained silent with the book on her big stomach, which she had dozed off with, but made sure her gaze never strayed from his. With drunkenness came the mocking and insulting. For the most parts, she just had to wait it out. Let him get it off his chest, an invading kiss, and then she would usually be freed from this behavior. 

As he reached the bed, he knelt beside it, bringing them to eye level. Her gaze shortly drifted to his hand that reached out for her before they strayed back to his eyes. If he felt like she ignored him, as she had done in the beginning of him being drunker for nearly every day, it would only take longer. The stench of alcohol made her want to cover her nose, but she abstained from it. The stench had gotten heavier and heavier over the past weeks, almost two and a half month. She had tasted beer more often on his lips when he demanded the mandatory kiss as soon as he got home. But at first, it was easy to see it had only been one or two. Nothing more as he wasn’t affected by it. But for every week, the taste had gotten stronger until his movements were marked by intoxication and slurred speech. That’s when he began coming home later. Leaving her to eat dinner by herself because he didn’t come home at the time he demanded the dinner to be ready. Only to reheat it when he finally decided to return. 

“Your lips look so good,” He mumbled as he let his thumb trace over them. A whiff of his sharp smelling breath hit her face. It took all her willpower to not wrinkle her nose. 

“So plumb, I just wanna bite them.” He continued with more aggressiveness in his voice. Placing a hand on each side of her head, he got to his feet, but his face only inches from hers as he stood there leaning over her. 

Suppressing a sigh, she put her book aside. It looked like it was gonna be one of those nights where he could go on taunting her. 

His half-lidded dark eyes sought her lips as he caught his own lower lip between his teeth. At the next second, he sealed his lips harshly against hers. A muffled whimper escaped her as a moan left him. With a bite at her lower lip, he pried her lips apart and his tongue invaded her mouth. He tasted of something stronger. Like bourbon or maybe cognac. 

Quickly, he adjusted his position, so he was supporting his weight on his left hand beside her head as his right traveled down her body, all while he eagerly played with her passive tongue. 

His hand was rough enough to tear out one of the buttons in her flannel as he dug under it, maybe rougher than he intended because of his inebriation. It squeezed her breasts in turns, caught her nipple between his index finger and thumb, moved down over her round stomach, lingered at the bottom of it before moving down between her legs. 

A groan came from her as his hand, probably meaning to tease her, hurt her instead, which released another deep-felt moan from him as he continued to swirl his tongue insistently against hers and her lips. 

_Get it over with,_ she thought to herself, but he just kept going. Under her closed lids, she rolled her eyes and suppressed a sigh as he continued to fondle her ass, stomach, and breasts. Her hands laid still beside her body. Not responding to him in any way. 

His lips deviated from hers to her jaw and down her neck where he licked and nibbled at her skin. His path led him up to her ear. Nibbling at her earlobe, he whispered, “You look so good. I thought you’d looked like a beached whale with that stomach, but it’s all firm. Or maybe it’s that ‘glow’ they always say pregnant girls have. I don’t know, but I like it.” His lips returned to hers, assaulting them more wildly than before. Forcing his tongue into her mouth, he moaned into the kiss. 

In this mood, he could turn on a dime. One minute, he praised her body, the next he could be disgusted by it. 

Without warning, he broke away from the kiss, “You know what, I actually feel like having bacon.” He set his teeth into his lower lip but in a different kind of hunger than earlier. 

As he pulled away, she knew it was her cue to get up and make him some. As the size of her stomach had grown, she was slower when getting up. The flannel that before was oversize, now fitted perfectly on her stomach. Her leggings kept falling down until she made a knot with a hair band at the back. 

Before she reached the kitchen and started, she heard the water running in the bathroom. When the bacon started sizzling and the smell reached the nose, her throat exploded in nausea. The smell was too intense for her to handle right now. She didn’t puke on a regular basis anymore, but certain smells and tastes could trigger it. 

“Ow, stop kicking.” She vaguely complained and moved her hand from her mouth to the place where it had kicked her, rubbing it softly. “Stop it.” She hissed under her breath as the next kick sent her dinner to the back of her throat. Turning the heat on the stove down to low, she bent over the kitchen sink with the water running. With her hand that wasn’t on her stomach, she drank some water and splashed some on her face too. 

Her left hand still rubbed the spot where it had kicked. Reminding her of the first time she felt life inside her. 

 

_There it was again. That uncomfortable feeling from inside her belly. “I… I think I should get… some sort of checkup.” She suggested quietly when they sat across from each other at the table eating their breakfast. The unfamiliar tickling, bordering to the uncomfortable had at first woken her early in the morning and now it continued. It felt like someone twisting her bowels, not enough to hurt her, but she felt it clearly. And the place was kinda wrong too, though it was first now she noticed that._

_“No.” Was the only thing he said._

_“There’s something…” She trailed off. “I want a checkup.” She mustered to sound more firm that she had thought possible._

_“I said no.” He pushed sternly out through his teeth while glaring at her. His eyes, darkened by determination, emphasized his words._

_Natasha could feel her cheeks heat up of indignation. That thing could be jeopardizing her health. There could be something wrong with it, or them both. At this moment, she didn’t know what she hoped for, but something was not as it was supposed to be. A deep primal maternal instinct was beginning to fight her on a weekly basis when she started to show more. It was encoded in her DNA to care, protect, and nurture. But her mind was trying to battle it with infected, dangerous, abomination. But a fear lurked just around the corner. A fear of the unknown, a fear of the possibly supernatural being inside of her. Would it tear her apart when it was strong enough? She didn’t know and that scared her._

_All this confusion, the opposing forces of her mind, and instinct reached a boiling point, and when the fear was added, it climbed out of her control._

_“Something feels odd, Dean. It feels fucking odd! I need to get checked!” Her voice rose with every syllable and she surprised herself when her fist landed hard on the tabletop, making her bowl rattle. It took less than a second for her mind to comprehend what she had just done, and instantly she shrunk in her place._

_“What part of ‘no’ don’t you understand?” Dean thundered as he stood up, staring hotly down at her._

_“And what don’t you understand of ‘something is wrong!’” She yelled back, her temper, or maybe her hormones, got the best of her as prickling tears rose to her eyes._

_“You are not leaving this house!” He barked belligerently._

_“Then bring it here. I don’t care! I feel something! Something that’s not right! It’s not okay!” Her voice rose to a hysterical note. Without her wanting to, she stood up too and pointed at her stomach, barely noticing the tears that now rolled down her cheeks in frustration and a hidden fear she wasn’t yet willing to acknowledge._

_“Why should it not be okay? Babies were born when the humanity only had fire, and they turned out just fine! I’ve already gotten you all the prenatal vitamins you need, okay? There should be nothing wrong!” His gestures became more aggressive as his temper heated and his voice rose._

_The words coming from him stunned her. “So, those pills you insist I eat every morning, they’re prenatal vitamins?” Her tone wound down from yelling, but her normal conversation voice sounded like a whisper in between their yelling. She needed to repeat his words in order to get a hold of them in her mind. Making sure she got the prenatal vitamins was in a level of care she had never expected from him. Why should he care?_

_“Yes! What the fuck should it be besides that?” In his anger, he hadn't noticed her shift in tone and her bewilderment. Meaning his loud voice made her jump._

_“I…” Trailing off, she shrugged, unsure how to respond. She was still a little shocked that he thought so much about it and cared enough to give it to her, and persistently insisted that she took them. “I’m sorry.” She whispered as she didn’t know what else to say. Her temper, and possibly hormone rush, had cooled and now she realized what danger she had put herself in by angering him, defying him, and yelling at him. Her shock extended further than just his care. She was as shocked by her own actions in the past few minutes. “But I still feel like there’s something wrong. It’s not a feeling in my head it’s an actual feeling. It’s physical. I feel something physically that I haven’t before.” As she spoke, her voice became weaker and weaker as her brown eyes dropped from his and she sank down onto the chair. A new round of tears rose in her eyes, threatening to spill at any second._

_“For the love of…” an annoyed outburst stopped his cursing. “Son of a…” He growled with irritation evident in his voice as he searched for the words to describe his disapproval, but then he sighed and spoke with an ounce more gentleness, “I’ll figure something out, okay?” Or could it have been a resigned hint she traced in his voice instead?_

_That same day, Dean came home with an apparatus the size of a closet with monitor, keyboard, a lot of wires, and a herd of other electronic equipment. He spent almost all evening putting it together._

_“Come here.” He yelled from the living room. Natasha had retreated to the bedroom with a book._

_“Lie down and lift it up.” He demanded as he gestured towards her flannel while she was laying down. When she did as she was told, he continued, “Okay, I haven’t done this before and I can't read the ultrasound to see if something is wrong.” His tone edged toward uncertainty as he spoke the sentence._

_“Then why did you get it?” She asked with a frown. She was impressed that he would go through all this trouble to get an ultrasound, but what was the use if he couldn’t use it or read it? She twitched when he squeezed the cold cream out on her stomach._

_“To see our baby.” He said absentmindedly as his attention was on the monitor. The transducer probe was already on her belly._

_Without wanting to, Natasha felt an uneasiness creep in on her the longer it took him to find the baby. She expected something to be severely wrong. Her nails dug deeper into her palms by the second, until the quick freight train-like sound of the heartbeat sounded._

That’s my baby’s heartbeat. _That sound cut through her all the way to her bone marrow. That sound was now etched into her and would forever be imprinted in her mind._

_At the next second, the image on the monitor made sense to her eyes that widened and she felt her jaw drop. “Stop.” She breathed. Dean’s hand stopped the wandering of the probe on her skin._

_His eyes narrowed. “Is that the head?” He asked and pointed on a blob on the screen after a few seconds._

_“No, there–” She didn’t get to say anymore as Dean carefully moved the monitor closer, trying not to move the probe at all while doing so, in order for her to reach the screen. “That’s the head.” She pointed it out to him. A few of her girlfriends had gotten to the baby stage… she stopped that thought from unfolding completely in her mind before it could make her sad. She had looked at a few ultrasound images before, so she knew a little about interpreting them. “And there’s the arms and the legs.” Her finger pointed it out on the screen for him._

_“Aah,” You could almost see the lightbulb as he could finally make sense of the image. “It almost looks like a peanut. Can you see if it’s a boy or girl?” For the first time, his green eyes found hers._

_“No.” She admitted a little disappointed. She hadn't even gotten to that question in her mind yet. Before he looked away, she thought she saw a hint of disappointment in his eyes too._

_“Well, it has two arms, two legs, and a head.” He said after a few moments of silence. As he looked at her, his lips formed a genuine smile, but it faded as she gasped._

_“That’s it! That’s the odd feeling!” She burst out. Both of them looked at her belly, but simultaneously realized they should be looking at the monitor._

_“It’s moving.” Natasha breathed in awe._

 

The smell of something burning reached her nose. “Fuck!” She had barely exclaimed the word before Dean, with heightened senses, had already detected it, turned off the stove, and pushed her backward until her back hit the wall. 

“What is your problem?” He demanded to know in a sneer. “Hmm?” He continued without waiting for a response, “You want some attention? Is that it? Maybe you _need_ it?” His body was still damp after the shower, only wearing a towel, and now it was pressed against her belly, that effectively worked like a buffer to keep him at distance. Kept him just enough inches away from her personal space to seem less threatening. 

“You want me to give you some attention?” He close to purred as the back of his hand traced over her cheek, which only made it seem more alarming, as she saw the lust unfold in his eyes. Taking a step back, he grabbed her by her shoulder and turned her around. Grabbing a fistful of her hair, he forced her into a half-bent over position, where her stomach and forehead were pressed against the cold wall. Giving him free access to rub against her ass. With his grip on her hair, he turned her head, so he could lick and kiss her cheek. 

“You want it, huh? Aren’t your hormones supposed to be running wild?” As he rubbed harder against her ass, she clearly felt his erection through the fabric of the towel and her leggings. A quiet whimper left her as oxygen eluded her lungs in fright. This was it. Her free card was up. A coldness slithered down her spine and spread a shivering throughout her body. 

His breath still reeked of the strong alcohol as his hot lips moved down to her neck, leaving a trail of nibbles and tongue kisses. The hand that wasn’t holding her head in place by her hair started squeezing her plump breast. 

“You want my dick.” He stated in a breathy groan and rubbed more determinedly against her, pressing her harder against the wall. 

As his teeth worked down her neck, biting harder and harder on her skin, she panicked. All this time, she had known it would lead to the inevitable at some point. She had just hoped she had more time. More time to figure something out. That her luck would last a little longer. As he continued to press his hard dick against her behind, it put pressure on her stomach, which didn’t help on her nausea. The faint smell of burned bacon and his reeking breath made the puke pool at the back of her throat. Squeezing her eyes shut, she swallowed thickly to keep it down. 

His rubbing against her became more aggressive. The hand that had crudely fondled her breast, moved to the hem of her leggings and began pulling them down. She was afraid to object – it might make it worse, now that her time had come. She was afraid to open her mouth, as she was sure her dinner would come up, but at the next hard rub, on the verge to being a thrust, she burst out, “Ouch, my belly.” 

His rubbing stopped, but his erection still pressed against her ass. Thought her eyes were still squeezed shut, she dared to peek at him after several seconds where nothing happened. Fleetingly, their eyes locked. His lustful expression changed in seconds, his upper lip raised slightly in contempt, the darkness caused by lust in his eyes was replaced by disdain. After a low resentful growl, the pressure ceased. She barely registered it before his grip loosened and his body disappeared from hers. Confused, she turned her head only to see his back, walking away from her. 

“Clean this mess up.” His fumed on his way to the bedroom. When he was out of sight, she pulled her leggings the few inches back up. 

With hammering heart, she tried to catch her breath. It hadn't been this close in months. He had teased her, fingered her, yes, but she hadn't felt his rock-hard erection like this. Turning her back against the wall, she slid down, sagged against it, and hid her face in her hands. It was a long time since it had been this close, and it still left her shocked, and somewhat vulnerable. Her ‘safety’ hung in a thin thread. She knew that, but she didn’t need it confirmed like he had just done. One wrong move, one wrong word, and it would seal her fate – it would happen. Heaving in a deep breath through her nose, she managed to fight the tears off. 

To be completely honest, she didn’t know exactly what granted her the option of dodging the bullet because it was different every time. It was a waste of time to find a pattern in it. The only repeating factor was her, which wasn’t much to go on. 

Heaving another deep breath in, she found the strength to get up and start cleaning up after the mess on the stove. On purpose, she took her time, hoping that Dean would be asleep when she was finally done. 

 

As quietly as she could, she undressed, sneaked into the bedroom without turning on the lights, and laid down. Barely had she breathed a sigh of relief when an arm hooked around her globe of a belly and a hot breath hit the back of her neck. 

“How’s the little peanut doing?” Dean mumbled half-sleep as his hand caressed her stomach. His warm body came closer under the covers, but to her relief he wore boxers. 

“Been kicking a lot today.” She whispered, hoping he would go back to sleep.

“That’s my peanut.” He mumbled, nuzzled closer to her, and soon after began snoring, eliciting a sigh of relief from her.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter has been a long time coming. I've been really excited to write this, but it was also quite challenging. I'm sorry that it took so long, but I hope it's worth it with its almost 10,000 words :-D  
> Let me know what you think in the comments :-D

Dean let out an exasperated sigh as his hand ran through his hair. “She looks at me with her begging eyes. I wanna hurt her. I want to, but then she looks at me and I can’t do it. She’s like a defenseless little puppy that’s all cold and wet. Whinging so heartbrokenly and you can’t do anything but help that pathetic little creature. I want to – I _need_ to take her and hurt her. But then she looks at me. Then that stupid bitch looks at me!” His jaw had clenched and unclenched throughout his sentences, meaning half of the words were pressed out through his teeth, but at the last sentence, his tone rose to a shout. 

“She ‘looks’ at you?” Crowley asked puzzled with a raised eyebrow, trying to figure out the bizarre situation he found himself in. They were in a small backroom of an abandoned factory. For now, they gathered there before jobs, though they didn’t use the same place for more than one or two weeks. Crowley was sitting on an old wooden chair at a small scratched table, while Dean wandered restlessly back and forth. 

“Haven’t you been paying any attention to what I’ve told you? I said it a dozen times! Do you need a neon sign or are you dyslexic? Yesterday, I had her pressed against the wall, all ready, but then she looked at me!” He thundered the last few words as if he could get his frustration out that way. A part of him knew it hadn't only been her looking at him, but he wouldn’t admit it, even to himself. 

“TMI, Dean, TMI.” Crowley held up a hand with raised eyebrows and shook his head like he could erase the images Dean painted in his mind with his words. But a hotly scowl from Dean made him stop and continue the initial subject, “Okay, okay, so she _looks_ at you?” Yet another failed attempt to decipher the capacity of the ‘look.’

“YES!” He barked with a gesture that indicated slight relief by the fact that Crowley finally seemed to get just a fraction of what he was trying to say. But the most domineering feature in his expression was still annoyance and grievance. 

“Can’t you make her ‘unlook’?” The King of Hell warily suggested as he made small quotation marks in the air at the last word. This wasn’t just Dean ranting to him, he genuinely needed some kind of solution or break to his problem that just dragged out and became worse, which could clearly be felt in his work. 

“No, because then she looks at me.” Dean dismissed him with an aggressive gesture as he still paced back and forth, only stopping shortly to emphasize some of his words or points. 

“Scratch her eyes out.” He suggested with a shrug. Clearly, he meant that that was the easiest solution. 

“I can’t because she looks at me before I get the chance.” Dean instantly rejected the idea. Though, he had to admit that thought had already crossed his mind, or blindfolding her. But then he had to play guide dog for her. Too much trouble. He knew that would annoy him even more than the current situation. He had already jumped through enough hoops for her. 

“Do it from behind.” Was Crowley’s next proposal. 

“Don’t talk to me about doing things from behind.” Dean pointed warningly at Crowley, shortly stopping his pacing. 

“Sorry, princess sensitive.” He muttered under his breath.

“What was that?” Dean let out in a growl, though he heard him just fine the first time. 

“Oh, nothing.” The King of Hell casually mumbled as he scratched the back of his head. With a scowl more heated than before, Dean made him shift his weight uncomfortably in the chair. As he cleared his throat, he approached the subject differently, “What about you get out a little? Maybe see that there’s other fish in the ocean.”

“I don’t want to.” His grumble was nearly a snarl as the unwillingness shone out of him. 

“Well, maybe you have to.” Trying a more tough love approach, as he was growing tired of Dean’s incessant complaints and shooting down every idea offered to him. Silently suspecting him of not wanting to find a solution after all. Or maybe he already knew the solution but didn’t want to execute it. 

“Do not tell me what to do.” He rebuked him with a hiss. 

With a sigh and a resigned shrug, Crowley replied, “It was just a suggestion. Maybe you should have got rid of her when you had the chance.”

“She’s carrying my child!” Dean shouted furiously. Loud enough to make the demons outside take a harder grip on their weapons. The slight shift in posture and an even lower clanking of metal reached Dean’s ears from the other side of the door. 

Another resigned whoosh of air left Crowley, as he didn’t know what else to say to satisfy Dean, “As I said, you should have gotten rid of her when you had the chance.” 

With a sneer, Dean grabbed his gun and pulled the trigger, sending a bullet through Crowley’s shoulder. His immediate go-to every time he was dissatisfied with him. 

“Ow! You know there are other ways to disapprove than bloody shooting me! Every time you shoot me, I have to go buy a new suit jacket and shirt.” Crowley lightly reprimanded him, but it was easy to see this behavior was starting to piss him off. 

The faint smell of gunpowder and blood made Dean inhale deeply and calmed his nerves just a bit. But not enough. “And now a pair of pants.” He nonchalantly aimed at his leg and pulled the trigger without barely looking. Crowley let out another, “Ow!” Though he knew it didn’t really hurt that much. “How about some new shoes too now that we’re at it?” A third bullet dug through Crowley’s foot. “Don’t tell me what to do.” His voice was markedly calmer now after releasing some of his aggression on Crowley. “It’s not like you know how it is to be in the situation I’m in.” He added, but an edge sneaked into his otherwise calm voice. 

“Okay, fine. You’ve made your point. Now stop ruining my goddamned clothes.” Crowley snapped back with indignation rising slowly in his voice as Dean hadn't sheathed the gun yet. Dean knew it wasn’t as much the pain as the inconvenience it was to acquire new clothes that bothered him. 

“Fine. Now let’s get going. I need to kill something.” A grin without humor played at the tips of his lips at the imminent promise of bloodshed that simultaneously sent a light shiver through him. He needed it so badly. 

“Don’t get all wound up on this trip, there are clear targets.” Crowley lightly reminded him. Immediately holding his hands up in a surrendering gesture as Dean turned to face him, still with his gun in his hand. 

“Let me at least have the primal apex predatory satisfaction that comes from tearing some flesh apart!” He hissed with a stomp on the ground, almost as a misunderstood teenager. Crowley couldn’t come up with a satisfying solution, but goddammit if he should prohibit him from the only outlet he had to his temper – and needs. His needs that flushed like a high sea in him with barely any hope of calming it. All he wanted was to go feral. Completely feral like a grey wolf. Feral with the job. Feral with Nat… he wanted it so much that just thinking about it spurred his heart on to race faster in his chest as his body shook with repressed bestiality. 

“You need to get that temper under control. Right now! In your wild rampage, you killed two of my demons too.” Crowley yelled without hope to reach Dean in his trance-like state of insatiable thirst for blood and brutality. 

As Crowley neared him, still leaned over his last victim, unable to stop stabbing and tearing in the flesh, he turned around with a snarl as if he was a predator guarding its dinner. “What did I say earlier?” With eyes as black as the darkest night, he bared his teeth. “Don’t tell me what to do.” His voice had wound down to a dangerously calm tone, but his eyes shifted as he got to his feet. 

Crowley winced, but then stood his ground. Even when Dean snaked closer, poised to attack. A savage, tameless glint shone brightly in his now green eyes. “This is just a suggestion, but what about going out? Have some fun, or just go on a vacation or something for a week? I’ll station demons at your house and make sure she eats and doesn’t hurt herself in some way and most importantly, making sure your pet doesn’t run away.” 

“No.” He spoke the word slowly but as stern as a steel while lighting a Marlboro. Shortly letting his guard down and loosened up for the inimical attitude. Though his shoulders were still tense, a fleetingly calm wave coursed through him after letting himself loose on the targets, and everything else that stood in his way. 

“Go out, get something to drink, dance with some tramps or whatever you need. That’s an order. And you can empty that mag in my chest, I don’t care because you need to rein all that crazy murderous ‘primal predator’ in before you don’t have anyone to work with. A lot of people would love to mess you up because of your last name, even though you’re a demon now.” Crowley mustered almost the same level of firmness in his voice as he stated his position clear as day. Dean knew he was right in some way. That he couldn’t completely push his allies away without severe consequences, but reining in what he was feeling right now was impossible. The ongoing discussion today with Crowley made it even more untamable as Dean realized he was almost out of options to release his true nature. 

When the beast gets caged, the beast goes berserk. 

With a deep ferocious growl, he turned his back to Crowley, threw the cigarette to the ground, and aimed himself at the last standing of Crowley’s demons. 

“Mature, Dean, really mature.” Crowley sighed behind him. Dean could almost see his rolling eyes and dug his hand deeper into the screaming demon he was about to kill just to spite The King of Hell. 

“For the love of god…” Crowley continued tiredly with a headshake as Dean was unable to drag himself away until he had maimed the demon beyond recognition. 

With a heavily panting and lightly trembling breath he stood up, “Now, I’m gonna ‘go out or whatever I need.’” He grumbled and marched with renewed determination away from Crowley. 

At the abandoned factory they momentarily used as a meetup, Dean quickly washed the blood off and changed clothes. His plan wasn’t to follow Crowley’s advice, but he would like him to think so. In reality, he was just going to do what he always did to drag out the time of his return home and as a way to divert his thoughts from Nat – drinking. Almost every night, he picked a different bar, as he didn’t want to draw too much attention by being at the same bar every night. Tonight, it was a bar he hadn't visited before. It was dirty and underlit compared to the amateur band that played at the back, making him roll his eyes as soon as he heard the cheesy rock music they played. It must be Friday or Saturday, he thought to himself. Lately, he didn’t really keep track of the days, as he just tried to get through them one at a time. 

Well, hopefully, he would soon be too drunk to pay attention to the thumping drums. 

Halfway through his third glass of scotch, he saw something that nearly made him jump up from the chair and charge forward. “What the…” His words trailed off as a pang of rage and disbelief drilled itself into him. Without thinking, only controlled by the emotions that were already running on a dangerously high note, he left his place. The need in him led him like a puppeteer through the crowd where he was jostled around a bit. The amateur band seemed to have a wider range of local fans than their sound. 

His common sense had shut off. His mind was thrown off, as he knew it wasn’t possible, that his eyes were deceiving him but captivated, he continued his approach as it was the most domineering power in him. He was powerless against it. Senselessly drawn forward, he entered a dazzling haze as every sound around him was dulled under the thudding of his pulse in his ears. 

A glimpse, light reflecting in a brown iris, a lock of brown hair…

Five feet from her, she turned around. “Na–” the name died in his throat as his eyes zeroed in on her. This close, it was clear she was shorter. Younger too. Twenty tops. Nat was twenty-five. As she moved in and out of the light, he began to notice some differences in her facial features. But she reminded him so much of Nat the first time he met her. A black dress with the same cut. Pink stilettoes instead of red, slightly less tasteful. Dark makeup, red lips, rosy cheeks. 

Stumbling a few steps back, he collected himself, but as his eyes caught another glimpse of her, every rational thought was eradicated and his instincts overhauled him. His upper lip raised slightly in anticipation while something he hadn't felt in a long time slithered down his spine. With a deep breath, he shook it off and feigned the appropriate look. 

As if slipping into an old groove, he approached her intentionally. 

“Oh god, I’m so sorry.” Dean grabbed onto her shoulder to steady her as he bumped into her and almost knocked her over. A surprised sound leaked from her lips, but then caught onto Dean’s forearm to regain the balance. 

Flashing a bright smile, he asked, “Can I buy you a drink?” Biting her lower lip, she nodded confidently. 

At the bar, she ordered a too blue, too sweet smelling drink that made Dean want to wrinkle his nose. As they worked through their drinks, Dean barely paid attention to what she said and what he replied. His vocabulary ran on autopilot in hopes of keeping himself together. It was easier just to let his words run along, like muscle memory as he had done it countless times since he became a demon. On the outside, he looked composed, but on the inside, he was rattling. He was only seconds away from throwing her over his shoulder and kidnapping her. But after a few more minutes, it was clear it wasn’t necessary. She was eager. Twenty-one years old, and ready for adventure. The only other detail he noticed besides that and the fact that she could be Nat’s sister, was that her name was Alice. 

As their lips met, he fought a hurricane to not force her legs apart and do her right here on the dirty bar floor. A girlish giggle gave him a few seconds to compose himself again, as he realized his uncontrollable body was reined in enough to mistake it for eager affection and inebriation. 

“So, you mentioned you were into cars. You wanna ride in mine?” He tucked a strand of her brown hair behind her ear with a trembling hand as he whispered the trapping words. 

Her, “Yes,” sealed her fate. 

Slipping into his old role and running it on autopilot until he could unleash the whirlwind inside him had worked a little too well. So well, he didn’t truly realize what he was doing until they entered the mile-long driveway down to his house. As he snapped back, he almost hit the brakes but caught himself just a fraction of a second before doing so. His mind caught up with his actions. He couldn’t bring her home. What had he been thinking? 

Alice didn’t seem to notice the absence of his focus on her. 

But then his actions caught up to his mind and the eye of the hurricane had passed, “You know what, we don’t have to get all the way back to my place to do this.” He allured as he parked the car at the side of the driveway. They had only made it ten yards down it.

Natasha had yet again waited in vain for Dean to come home. When he left, he instructed her in having the dinner ready at an exact time, but he hadn't shown before hours later than the time she was given. Though, every night, she continued to have it ready at the stroke of time given, too afraid to explore the consequences if she didn’t comply. 

Usually, she began eating half an hour after she was supposed to have it ready when he didn’t show. The meal was nearly cold. After that, she made a portion ready to be heated in the microwave when he finally decided to come back. 

As she was about to clean the pan, a bloodcurdling scream echoed from far away, but loud enough for her to drop the pan with a clatter in the sink. Leaving the pan with the water still running, she rushed to the window near the door, but it was too dark to see anything. Straining her eyes, she kept looking, equally alarmed and curious. Never had she heard anything out here besides Dean and his car, so the fact that she simply heard something at all was a mystery to her. With pricked ears, she waited for another sound, though all she heard was her own pulse in her ears. Just loud enough to muffle the running water in the kitchen. 

She had just turned her back to the window when another scream sounded. The scream instilled pure terror, and made the fear course through her, albeit mostly because of the unknown. The unknown as in what caused such an ear-shattering scream? Who was it? Where was it coming from? How far away was it? Who or what made her scream like that? It was definitely a woman’s scream. 

As the minutes ticked by, Natasha became more and more unsettled. There wasn’t another scream in a long time, but she looked out of each window in the house in hopes of anything to shed light on what was happening. 

When another scream pierced through the air, it continued almost without a stop. With widened eyes and shaking hands, Natasha backed away from the window. Some instinct of self-preservation urged her to hide because whatever was happening could happen to her. Whatever was out there could find her next. 

Hectically, she cleaned the pan, making sure the kitchen was clean when Dean would return. Another self-preservation technique she had acquired. 

Shortly after, she found that the sound of the continuous screams was muffled most efficiently in the bathroom. With a closed door, she slid down on the tile floor and covered her ears. 

“What?” Alice asked puzzled. 

“I said, we don’t have to get all the way back to my place to do _this,”_ He coaxed as he let his hand stroke up her thigh and under her dress. Dean saw the disapproval on her face seconds before she reacted by shoving his hand away. 

“I don’t think so.” She firmly said, but the wary and caution shone out of her. She had somewhat a grasp of her situation. Alone in a stranger’s car, in the middle of fucking nowhere. Her eyes flickered as if looking for an escape. But she wouldn’t realize her true predicament and danger before it was too late. 

“Oh, but I do.” Everything he was trying to repress radiated through in his voice as his right hand shot forth, grabbing a fistful of her brown hair, forcing her lips onto his, while his left quickly traveled up her thigh and under her dress. 

“What do yo–” Her aggrieved outburst was drowned by his lips. With a hard push to his chest, she managed to create a few inches between them. Her open palm instantly connected with his cheek, jerking his head to the side and he let go of her hair. “What do you think you’re doing?” She hissed with cheeks heated with anger. 

“What do you think _you’re_ doing?” He close to purred slowly but cunningly with narrowed eyes and a mischievous smirk playing around the edges of his lips. 

The color abandoned her face as she realized the severity of the situation she had ended up in. The blatant lewdness and imminent danger darkened his features and she became aware that she had only one option. 

Run.

Opening the door, she tumbled out before he could get a hold of her, and lost a stiletto in the process, but she was quickly back on her feet and ran over the field without barely looking back. Her other stiletto was caught in the soft soil, still mushy after the heavy rain the day before.

Dean quickly pursued her without even bothering to close the car door after him. In a matter of twenty yards, he caught up to her and launched himself forward, making them both tumble to the ground. 

A scream pierced the air but abruptly stopped as her face was buried in mud. At the next second, she spluttered and spat out the dirt that had filled her mouth while she hectically crawled away from him. As she was halfway on her feet, Dean caught onto her ankle, making her drop down on all fours with a panicked shriek in between her panting breath. 

Dean, who had raised himself to his knees, quickly grabbed onto her shoulder and ripped her around to her back. 

“No!” Alice screamed hysterically, as she tried to kick him away, but too easily, his left arm pushed her legs to the side with a such a force, she gathered enough momentum to turn to her stomach and again tried to crawl away from him.

Before she could make it six feet away from him, he grabbed onto her legs again and pulled her back with a grunt. In a hopeless attempt, she dug her nails into the mushy soil, but it didn’t slow her down. When she came to a stop, she spun around, screaming, and lashed out at him with her nails first. 

He groaned as they made four deep cuts on his left cheek. The impact momentarily made him pull back, and he could feel his flesh rejecting the grit that had been under her nails as it healed. 

The brunette didn’t notice his supernatural healing abilities as she had already turned her back to him to get away. 

“Enough!” He growled and pulled her back with even more force than before. As her hair was within reach, he grabbed a fistful of it with his right hand and ripped her around to her back again. His left kept her legs to the side to make sure she couldn’t kick him, but her hands flailed with everything she could muster, leaving scratches and muddy stripes on his face, neck, and shirt. Her fighting was so hectic she still didn’t notice how fast he healed. 

Angrily and anxiously, she screamed as she twisted and turned underneath him. Then, she sought another tactic. Her left hand closed around his throat, the other formed into a fist and connected with his left cheekbone. 

Dean inhaled sharply, but as he exhaled through his clenched teeth, it was a growl. The fleeting pain, but mostly the exasperation made his eyes turn black. “Stop fucking resisting, you dirty slut!” He shouted in her face as he wrenched her left hand away from his throat. The power he usually felt by watching them struggle and slowly realize they were inadequate, quickly burned out, making him impatient. 

Her brown eyes locked on his black ones, making her freeze for a second as they widened, and then she let out a terrifying scream that echoed around them. In her fear, her body had shortly frozen, giving Dean just enough time to take advantage of her open mouth, drowning her scream with his lips and tongue. 

With more force than he had given her credit for, she wrenched her head to the side, requiring Dean to tighten his grip on her hair to rip her face back to his, making her protests come to a halt when he sealed his lips to hers. In an attempt to force her lips apart, he bit onto her lower lip, but her mouth remained shut. 

All his needs, repressed for so long, made him more violent than he usually was. He liked – no, _loved_ – how he could manipulate and screw with his victim’s minds before they realized they were at his mercy, which he didn’t possess. Or so he thought until very recently, and that spurred him on to prove to himself that he didn’t own a shred of it. 

As her lips were still clamped shut, he lost his patience completely, clenching his teeth around her lower lip until he felt them break the skin and he tasted blood. Her lips parted in a scream of pain, but he quickly muffled her with his tongue. 

As soon as she overcame the pain, her teeth retaliated into his lower lip. Inhaling sharply, he enjoyed the taste of blood, even though it was his own this time. But the taste was short before the wound closed again. 

While still battling to intrude her mouth over and over, he used his weight to keep her down along with the grip on her hair, so his other hand was free to explore and intrude other places. Pushing her dress and bra down to crudely massaging her breast, lifting her dress to inch by inch pull her panties down, though for every inch he pulled them down, she managed to pull them half an inch up again. 

As soon as she was able to get the upper hand in the kiss and shut her lips, he bit down on her lower lip, which granted him access until she could close them again. Before biting her again, he shuddered at the taste as he licked the blood off her lips. But it didn’t take many minutes before he was bored with it. He wanted… no, _needed_ to hear her scream, so he released her protesting outburst and let his lips wander down her neck, where he let his teeth sink into her skin, making a whole string of bruises appear. For every bite, her body twitched and her scream rose to a more high-pitched note. His free hand quickly but not without struggle, spread her legs, so he could lie between them and rub against her before his hand continued to grab harder onto her. With renewed crudeness, he ripped her dress and bra down, tearing the fabric at the seams. Fiercely, he fondled her breast until his lips took over and his hand traveled further down to her hip. 

As he bit down in her right nipple, her body twitched as wildly as if she had gotten a shock from a jumper cable, and at the next second, she hammered her elbow into the back of his head. 

With a heated growl, Dean grabbed onto both her wrists and slammed them into the ground, almost burying them in the mud. His eyes had turned black from the pain and were now letting out a sneer through his bared teeth. 

The fear shone like a lighthouse beam out of her eyes. Momentarily, too terrified to barely breathe, let alone scream. 

Inhaling deeply through his nose, Dean closed his eyes. He could almost smell her fear. When he opened his eyes again, they were green. 

“What was your name again?” There was still a trace of the sneer in his soft voice. He almost succeeded in composing himself enough to play a part of his mind games. 

“A-Alice.” She stammered under her breath. Too afraid to do anything else than answering his question. 

“No!” He yelled in her face. His voice boomed around them in the quiet night. “Your name’s Natasha! Do you get that? Your name’s Natasha now!” He continued yelling in her face, making her body jolt for every syllable.

His control was slipping. His mind was a wild rampage of lust and need. It was his bottled up emotions and needs and frustration and tension that flooded and boiled. Trying to repress himself and his nature for so long was driving him mad. He didn’t want the girl underneath him. And he couldn’t release himself on the girl he actually wanted at home. But his mind was enough of a haze for him to pretend. Just for a bit, he could pretend that she was her. Maybe it was enough to burst the cage she had put him in. Maybe it was enough for him to regain the control over her. To break the spell she had put him under. Because he couldn’t take it anymore. The pressure was too much, and his control slipped on a minute basis at the moment. 

He didn’t want her to be Natasha, but he needed her to be. And the need trumped what he wanted or didn’t want. Unwillingly, he pushed it to the back of his head. He would have to deal with the consequences later. Though he knew he would regret them. Of all the things in the world, there were extraordinarily few things that could make him regret anything in his demon-state. But this was one of them. 

But it was Nat’s fault. And that spurred him on to continue what he was doing. 

“So, what’s your name?” He demanded to know. Only a few seconds had passed by since his last words. His mind was a whirlwind and he had no hope of controlling it, so he just let his need flow and steer him. 

“N-Natasha?” She stammered more than before as her eyes flickered. Her tone was high-pitched in confusion and fright. 

“That’s right. You’re Natasha. And I’m gonna fuck you up. I wanted to do this for so long and now you’re gonna get it. You’re gonna get what you deserve now! Fucking whore! I’m gonna make you pay for every time you make me suppress my true nature.” He sneered, his every word dripped with contempt as his upper lip raised more and more in disgust. 

Everything he had held back was enhancing every brutal and demonic feature of him. He knew it wasn’t all true because if it were, she wouldn’t be here. This wouldn’t have happened. He would be at home instead. Not lying here messing around in the mud with a random slut that just resembled her. But he had held it back for so long, it was all just too much and his self-control was nonexistent. He was about to be more violent and menacing that he had ever been before. 

The girl under him didn’t even dare to move. She could clearly see the vivid madness in his eyes. She was frozen in her place as a rabbit caught in the headlights on a dark night. Her breathing was ragged and she shook from the cold, both outside her and inside. An insidious fear crawling through her, crippling, and nailing her to her place. 

Violently, he attacked her lips and rubbed harder against her. Though he had confused her and scared her, her body fell back into the same disobedient pattern. Clamping her lips shut, trying to push him away. The only thing giving her away was her muffled shrieking protest. The deep desperation was easy to hear, and Dean dwelled in the sweet sound. 

He felt how she twitched every time he rubbed against her in rhythmless jolts. The denim of his jeans, stretched by his erection, grinding against her thin lace panties and hurting her. 

He couldn’t go on for another second anymore. His dick was so hard, pounding painfully in his jeans. Quickly, he pulled back and flipped her to her stomach before she could barely make a sound, and ripped her dress up so harsh, his fingers tore through the fabric. As he ripped her pink lace panties down, they burst at the seams and he threw the torn lace aside. 

His left hand was holding her down by her neck, sitting on his knees, they kept her legs apart, while his other hand proceeded to open his jeans. She struggled under him, but he barely noticed. His mind was a fog with all his physical sensations and impressions. The feeling of her warm skin, the desperate sounds she was making, her body fighting underneath him, but powerless against his strength, the smell of despair, blood, and mud. The fervent heat shooting through his bloodstream, so rapidly its thumping almost deafened everything else in his ears. 

As he pulled his jeans and boxers down, he grabbed onto his dick, rock-hard and he could feel the blood pounding painfully in it, and he had to pump himself a few times before focusing on her exposed body. 

A part of him wanted to enjoy this, to do as he always did to shatter them, take her pussy first, and when she thought this was the worst thing that had ever happened to her, he would go to her ass. But another part of him just wanted to go straight to her ass. He needed it. Struggling to decide, he settled on her ass. Then he paused. 

She was there, all ready and exposed. With a steady grip on his throbbing erection, he was ready to stick it in, but something held him back. 

Dean tried to shake his head and take a deep breath. He put the tip of him to her opening, making her flinch, whine, and fight more to get free, though he barely noticed it as it felt like steel robes where physically holding him back from penetrating her nether orifice. 

With closed eyes, he leaned his head back, cracked his neck to both sides, and inhaled deeply before focusing on her ass again. Pushing against her hole once again, making her scream, “No! Stop!” and cry, it felt like the physical force that held him back gained strength. 

What the fuck was wrong with him? Every cell in his body wanted him to proceed. To get what he really, truly needed. But something… stood in the way. With an increasingly ragged breathing, he tried to overcome it, but it spread like a poison through him. 

“Come on.” He hissed through his teeth and hit his temple several times with his palm as if he could beat it out of him. Pressing against her hole again, something grabbed him and pulled him back mentally. 

“Stop. Just let me do this.” He whispered under his breath, trying to win the internal conflict he didn’t even understand. What was happening to him? The world and the girl faded before his eyes and in his mind, as he fought to understand. Shaking his head again, he took a couple of fast deep breaths and pushed forward. Right before he was about to break through and penetrate her, he pulled back and inhaled sharply as if she burned him. 

“Fuck!” He exclaimed exasperatedly and desperately. Quickly, he pulled his boxers and jeans up before flipping the girl to her back, eliciting a scream from her. Deftly, he straddled her and let his right hand close around her throat. “You really have the audacity to deny me? To deny me my true nature? What have you done to me, Nat? You think you can cage me with your mind games? Looking at me with your big brown eyes like you were a wounded puppy? But guess what! It ends here tonight!” Through his sentences, his voice rose until he was screaming hysterically at her, and ended his outburst with slapping her and immediately backhanding her. 

When Nat looked at him… he couldn’t describe it. But it made him hit a barrier in his mind, leaving him boiling, scalding hot with repressed aggressiveness, fury, and lust. Everything he was feeling right now, only with a ton more force, weighing heavily on him. 

“I’m gonna teach you a fucking lesson, you stupid bitch! I can’t make myself rape you, but I can still hurt you.” His heated and agitated tone wound down to a disdainful grunt. His right hand formed into a fist and hit her two times, so the blood ran from her mouth and nose, and she started sobbing loudly after her initial screams of pain. 

As he stood up, she rolled to her side and hid her face in her hands. She tried to assess the damage, but her muddy hands couldn’t tell her how much the blood flowed. 

Dean ran to the car, opened the trunk, but he couldn’t find what he was looking for. He quickly searched the backseat, but again came up empty-handed. He needed… something… grabbing a hunting knife from the trunk, he searched his surroundings. He needed to think creatively. Normally, his creativity didn’t have to extend this far. He had his black box in the bedroom, but he didn’t have it here, and he wouldn’t go get it even though he was under a mile away from home. Afraid that if he had to face Nat right now, he couldn’t go through with this. Then his gaze landed on the nearest tree of the row of trees on each side of the mile-long driveway. 

“I am so gonna fuck you up.” He mumbled to himself as he shot a fiendish glance toward the brunette. His punches had somewhat incapacitated her, but not knocked her unconscious. Right now, she was using her strength on crawling away from him. 

The nearest branch was higher than he could reach. Two running steps, pushing off the tree trunk with his right foot, he jumped high enough to grab onto it. Using his weight, he bounced a few times to make it crack and now landed on the ground on his feet. By stepping on it, he broke the branch, giving him a half a foot piece about the same thickness as his forearm. With the hunting knife, he slivered barbs on three sides all the way down the branch as he walked towards her.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asked sweetly but patronizingly as he kneeled down and grabbed onto her ankle. 

As soon as she felt his touch, she screamed. “No, please. Leave me alone. Don’t do this to me.” She sobbed. Up until now, her pleas had been scarce. That didn’t surprise him by the way she was fighting back. She might be young, but she had at least taken self-defense classes or something more aggressive. Or maybe she had a perfect childhood and was now a confident woman in her early twenties. Who knew? But he certainly didn’t care. 

In her effort to escape, she had pulled her ripped dress down, but Dean pulled it up again, once again tearing at the fabric. He let go of the piece of wood to grab onto her hips and pulled her up on her knees, her hands still tried to claw at the mud in hopes of finding something to hold onto and crawl away. 

His mind paused for a second. He still wanted to just get a little piece of his mind games satisfied. So he took the sheathed hunting knife and pushed it into her folds. Her back arched and she let out a violated gasping scream. 

“Oh, come on, it’s not that big.” He teased as he moved the sheathed knife back and forth. The rough nylon the sheath was made of scraped her insides. “It’s not even as big as my dick.” He continued to taunt when she pleaded him to stop and leave her alone. The fingers of his left hand dug into the flesh on her hips, leaving bruises, as his right hand led the knife. 

“Just be glad that I kept the sheath on,” He paused thoughtfully for a second, “maybe I’ll take it off later, but first…” He trailed off, tucked the knife behind the back of his jeans, and picked up the half-foot long branch. “I can be innovative and inventive if I have to.” He said mostly to himself as he studied the piece of wood with the cutout barbs on before putting it to her second hole and pushed. She screamed and twitched as she felt the rough bark poking her. 

“What the fuck are you doing to me, you psychopath?” She screeched panickily and equally tried to crawl away and look back. 

“I’m gonna fuck you up, Nat!” He grunted as he tried harder to push it in. “Goddammit.” He exhaled powerfully as he stopped as he realized it wouldn’t go in. The bark had scraped her, but barely enough to make it bleed. 

Letting go of the branch, he grabbed a fistful of hair at the back of her neck, and pushed her head into to mud, making sure she couldn’t breathe. Both her hands and knees tried desperately to push off the ground, but he was too strong for her. 

After almost a whole minute, he let go and her head snapped up with a deep, whining breath. While she recovered, Dean used the hunting knife to chop one of the ends of the branch into a point. As soon as he had cut it, his left arm hooked around her midsection and he put the pointy end of the branch to her second hole again, making her scream in protest, and then in pain as it slowly slipped inside her. But one inch in, it was stuck and he couldn’t push it deeper in. the first barb was still over an inch away from entering her. He strained his muscles, making them shake and the veins stand out on his arm, but he couldn’t get it any deeper in. 

With an annoyed sigh, he pulled it out. “I have to widen your ass.” He mumbled frustrated by the fact it would take a little longer for him to get the shadow of satisfaction he needed. 

That comment made the girl fight harder to get away, her pleas, and protests increased while she kicked and screamed. Quickly, Dean silenced her by hitting the back of her head with the branch. Her scream wound down to a whimper, her right hand covered the place where he had struck her, but her movements were slow and uncoordinated, suggesting that the hit to her head had been hard enough to make her sight black, but not enough to knock her out, which was what he strived for – incapacitated but conscious. 

He ran to the car, not because he was afraid she would get away, but because he soon couldn’t wait any longer. In the glove compartment, he found a bottle of Vaseline and returned to her. Using almost everything in the bottle on the sheath of his hunting knife and the cut off branch. She was still disoriented and groggy after the blow to her head when he was done. 

“Aw, now it’s gonna get shit on it,” He sighed before he hooked an arm around her midsection and pushed the Vaseline-covered sheath all the way into her ass in one fast movement with a grunt, eliciting an ongoing, high-pitched scream from her. Slowly, he pulled it back and jammed it up into her again, renewing her scream. Her disorientation and grogginess had vanished. Now she kicked, twisted, and turned to get away. Clawing and hitting his arm around her waist, but it was no use, his tense arm was an inescapable snare around her waist. 

“Are you a virgin in your ass? Hmm, slut?” He demanded to know even though he didn’t care for an answer. 

Two more times, he jammed the sheathed knife into her second hole and twisted it to widen her more, making her scream continue without a stop before he pulled it out, threw it to the ground, took the branch and put the point to her ass. 

“No! No! Please stop! Please stop, you psycho!” Her scream became more high pitched than he had thought possible when he slowly pushed it into her. His arm was trembling from the strain it was to force it into her, but her ass still wasn’t wide enough. There was still half an inch up to the first barb. 

“Fuck!” For a moment, the enjoyment of the thought of raping her traveled through his mind. He could still do it. She was so tight. But quickly the image of her in his mind was replaced by Nat. Nothing would be better than that… 

Shaking his head to get the images to go away, he grabbed the hunting knife from the ground. “Okay, fine,” It was almost a sigh, but the malevolence cut through in his voice. He wiped the sheathed knife in the mud in an attempt to clean it from when it had been inside her before he removed the sheath. Leaning forward, he drove the blade of the hunting knife through her right hand that was outstretched in hopes of finding something to hold on to and crawl away. It cut straight through her hand, and less than a second later a scream echoed through the air, almost causing Dean to cover his ears. 

With the knife still in her hand, he leaned farther forward, leaving his lips close to her right ear. From this angle, he could see the streaks on her muddy face caused by her tears. “You’re gonna wish I was the one raping you and not this branch. If you’d seen it, you would be begging me to give you my dick instead. I’m big, baby, but I’m not that big. So think about that when I shove this up your little tight ass.” He growled through clenched teeth before pulling the knife out of her hand. He wasn’t even sure she head him over her loud scream, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t wait any longer now. 

Immediately, she withdrew her wounded hand to her chest, but as he put the knife to her ass, it shot forth again, trying uselessly to find something to hold on to so she could escape. 

“By the way, you never told me if your little ass was a virgin or not.” An amused hint saturated his voice, but it quickly fainted. 

The knife slipped easily into her, cutting her flesh on the way in. Her screams couldn’t be any louder now, and her twisting, turning, and twitching couldn’t get more violent than they already were.  
“Well, your ass certainly isn’t virgin anymore.” He grunted with a slight enjoyment by his own taunting. His left arm around her waist tightened and he let out a strained grunt as he fought to keep his hold on her. The blood already oozed out of her before he twisted the knife, scraping her insides before he at last cut clean through to her pussy. “That ought to be big enough.” He said thoughtfully before putting the knife aside and took the branch again. Her incessant and continuous screams almost hurt his ears as he put it to her ass with the tips of the barbs pointing towards him. It didn’t take much of a push before it easily slid into her. The mix of Vaseline and blood served as the perfect lube. 

When two-thirds of it were it, he gave it a last hard push, making sure it was as deep as it could get. It was perfectly lodged in her because of the barbs when he let go. His right arm wrapped around her midsection as well, bringing the end of the branch to his crotch, making Dean let out a shaking moan as the pressure alleviated his need just a bit. Rubbing against the end of the branch, a shiver rippled through him and he rubbed harder, immediately receiving just an ounce of the satisfaction he needed. “Oh, this feels good.” He moaned and settled into a rhythm of rubbing against the branch. The pain from the blood throbbing through his dick was nothing compared to the pain it was to rub against the piece of wood, but it was also satisfactory on some level. He liked a little pain with his pleasure. Just as there was always a little pain involved in forcing himself into a little tight virgin ass. 

Her scream rose and fell, reached its highest pitch when he rubbed and pushed against the branch inside her. Gradually ripping her apart more than she already was. The rough bark scratched her, the barbs dug into her and left big splinters. Her nails dug into the soft ground in some hope of overcoming the pain, but there was no relief. The pain burned through her like hellfire, more agonizing than she had ever thought possible. As a reflex, she kept screaming and screaming even though it didn’t help at all, the pain was too intense. It even overshadowed the pain in her hand. When he started degrading her, she couldn’t hear it over her screams and the pain that was ripping her apart just as the branch was doing. 

“You like that, huh? You dirty slut! This has been a long time coming, Nat! You know that! You’ve saved up for this for _months!_ You hear me? You had this coming, Nat!” He growled through clenched teeth. Simulating the scenario of raping was enough right now when he had been on a dry streak for so long. It made the lust pump through him. Every time his hips was thrusting him forward and made his jeans-covered crotch bang onto her ass, he pushed the branch in and made it shift inside her, causing her screams and cries to continue without a stop. They satisfied him on some level, close enough for now to the real thing. Going for so long without it, this and the friction he received from doing the fuck-motion and grinding against the branch was enough to leave him as a moaning, grunting mess, but soon, it wouldn’t be enough to satisfy his deepest darkest desires. 

It only took minutes before he could feel it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t enough. The friction was a blessing, it aided his need, but he wanted more. He wanted to feel a tight ass around him, enclosing his member. He wanted to hear screams that were caused by his dick. He could feel the pressure climbing, bringing him to his release, but almost halfway, it decreased. It wasn’t enough. The frustration rose in him, made him hump her harder and faster. He could feel the blood from her behind soaking his jeans and down his thighs. 

“Begging for a regular dick now, huh? Filthy slut! You had this coming!” His breath now came rapidly in-between his words and grunts as his frustration rose. He reached a point where he couldn’t thrust his jeans-covered erection any harder or faster against her. Hitting a wall of not only regular frustration but also sexual. The satisfaction he got from the friction reached a point where it was more an annoying tickle or itch you couldn’t scratch. Stuck in a purgatory of never receiving the friction he needed to get off. For every minute, he became more and more desperate. 

“How does this feel, slut? Feels good? If you’d stop that incessant screaming for just a minute, you’d be begging for my dick instead. My dick would feel so good after this. All smooth when it would go into your ass and you’d be begging me for more. But that’s not gonna happen because of Natasha! That fucking bitch! She did this to me! And look what _you_ made me do. You made me do this to you! This is your fault! Do you get that, you fucking filthy slut! Stop being so fucking cheap and slutty and things like this wouldn’t happen! You practically asked for this! And deep down, we both know that you want this! If you didn’t, you wouldn’t go home with strangers and let them fuck you! You girls today are so fucking cheap! You make this way too easy for someone like me! So naïve, so gullible! That goes for you too, Nat! Fucking slutty bitches!” His arms tightened around her midsection, straining her already ragged breathing in-between her screams. He was nearly breathless after shouting one demeaning, spiteful, and baleful sentence after the other. He wasn’t sure if it was because he wanted her to hear him, or he just needed to scream out his frustration. No matter what, he could feel he couldn’t continue this. His frustration was reaching a level that was about to make him insane. The friction his crotch received wasn’t enough, taunting her wasn’t enough, her screams and struggle wasn’t enough and hadn't been for the past ten minutes at least. 

When he paused in his minor meltdown, he could see her movements and screams were suffering under her blood loss. Her flailing arms and legs were losing their strength. Her screams were distorted. As he pulled back and let her midsection go, she fell to her stomach, her reflexes too weak to act before she hit the ground. Her screams were interrupted by a deep sobbing. 

“Now’s the time to get what you’ve deserved.” He pushed through gritted teeth as he flipped her onto her back. All her tears had made streaks in the blood and mud on her face. The sudden movement made her let out a piercing scream as it made the branch inside her move. As he straddled her, he could see her eyes were glazed as if she couldn’t hold her focus. 

“You’re never doing this to me again, Nat!” He burst out viler and with more viciousness than he had expected, but the frustration building in him was reaching a boiling point. His right hand formed into a fist and hit her. “Never again! Do you hear me?” Again, his fist impacted with her cheekbone. Small whimpers and whines of pain were what mostly came from her now. Both his hands closed around her throat. “This ends here tonight.” He snarled. His jaw was clenched so hard it hurt and his teeth gritted against each other. Her nails clawed at his hands and forearms, leaving long bloody and muddy scratches that painfully healed just as quickly. Her legs kicked underneath him but with less and less force. She gasped, and with futility, she tried to drag air to her lungs, but his hands efficiently kept her airways closed. 

Even when her legs stopped kicking and her hands fell to the ground, he kept his pressure on her throat. Finally, after a few more minutes, he was able to tell his hands to let her go. “I hope you’ve learned your lesson.” He leaned forward and whispered icily in her ear before he released himself and his scorching frustration on her lifeless body, just as he had done to the last of Crowley’s demons. 

A realization suddenly hit him with so much force he paused for a second. The hunting knife he had picked up from the ground at some point in his murderous rage, stopped mid-air. 

The main reason why he couldn’t rape this girl was something he had never felt before as a demon. A sharp pang coursed through him and planted a seed of guilt in his chest. As he now and then could break through his haze of wild wreaking havoc, he felt like he was cheating on Nat. Just kissing this girl made him feel so bad he could barely stand it. That was why he couldn’t bring himself to rape her. The guilt was already blossoming and spreading in him just by the few kisses. It felt awful. He couldn’t even imagine how it would have felt if he had actually raped her. It made him rip, tear, and cut in the corpse with renewed bestiality until he was so exhausted, he could barely hold himself up on all fours. His body was shaking with the exertion. 

Her body was so maimed he had to retrieve a tarpaulin from the trunk of the car to drag away with her remains. As he dragged her body away and dug her deep grave, he tried to numb the whirlwind in his mind. He had gotten a bit of an outlet, but it wasn’t enough. It was only very temporary. His body was still shaking with the short satisfaction he had gotten, but it was soon overshadowed by the guilt he felt. As he dug her grave one shovel of dirt at a time, it helped him slow down his whirling thoughts. 

After she was buried deep below the surface, he allowed himself to smoke two Marlboros in a row as he headed back to the car to drive it the last way to the front door. He couldn’t prolong the inevitable any longer now. He just had to face her. Though the closer he got to that, the heavier the guilt weighed on him. 

As soon as he got into his car, he found a bottle of scotch from under the driver’s seat and chugged down several mouthfuls. 

“D-Dean?” Even when the screams had stopped, she didn’t dare leave the bathroom. Though she wasn’t entirely sure that they had really stopped because she still had a ringing before her ears. It was first when she heard the front door open, she realized they had actually stopped and she dared to peek out from her hiding spot. 

“Yeah,” He confirmed with a sigh. The cutting, terse tone she had been so used to was nowhere to be found. He sounded tired, almost resigned, so she got to her feet and left the bathroom. On her way out, she could feel her upset body shaking lightly.

Only two steps from the door, she skidded to a halt. His clothes were ruined… covered in mud that had partially dried some places, and blood… he was covered in splotches and splatters of blood from head to toe. The gasp stuck in her throat, as did her next breath. It didn’t take long for the final piece of the puzzle to come together in her mind. 

“Nat…” He breathed and trailed off with slumped shoulders, slightly leaned forward as if he was carrying a heavy burden. “I-I…” Again, he trailed off as he struggled to find the right words. 

Bewildered, he let his hand run over his face and into his hair, stiff by mud and blood, while his eyes flickered like they were trying to visually track down the words. “I-I did something horrible…”


End file.
